Chapter 1
From the heights the prospect of the expansive bay and of a tiny island called Alcatraz was unmatched in all of California. San Francisco was not merely a vicinity for a good view of nature's wonders; for within a mere thirty years from its beginnings, the rough edges of a hastily created port-of-call had evolved into a flourishing hub of commerce and culture miles west of the frontier and of grand tradition. The riches of gold and silver had enticed a flurry of people west; and out of the successes of fortune seekers sprang grand hotels, reverent churches, formidable buildings of exchange, a stronghold mint, and libraries and academies to educate. Yet what made the fledgling city unique were the residences of a new class of moneyed folk. The houses they built were unparalleled in their elegance of design; the street side facades indulgent in whimsical shapes, combinations of colors, great windows from which the occupants could gaze in wonder, and carved adornments intended to delight an admirer's fancy.
Elizabeth MacCanish peered from a large window of just such a house, down to the lane below. A fly cab had pulled onto Washington Street, stopping in front of the cream-colored shiplap house, its exterior ornamented with elaborate black and white geometrics and intricate gingerbread scrollwork on every eave. Elizabeth sighed on catching sight of her friend Jarrod Barkley as he stepped from the cab and paid the driver the agreed fare.
"Eugene, your brother has arrived!" Elizabeth's voice hailed in a melody of pleasure. She often spoke so, as it was her nature to sing, particularly when busy at a task. She had a charming, gay voice; her late father, Connell MacCanish had always thought so, as had his friends the Barkley's; above all, the sons.
Eugene Barkley hurried to the window, grinning to see his eldest brother walk up the portico steps to be greeted by the houseman who took Jarrod's coat and hat.
"Did you have a good trip, Mr. Barkley?"
"An uneventful train trip from Stockton, Jack," Jarrod nodded in his easy way. "Just the way I like it, and a fine sunny day for the occasion. How often does that happen here on the coast?"
Jack followed closely as Jarrod stepped into the entry, not awaiting a reply to his rhetorical question.
"Mr. Eugene and Miss Elizabeth are in the parlor."
"I can find my way."
Jarrod knew precisely how to find the parlor on the second floor of the house. He had been a visitor there on many occasions, either by himself when in town on business, or on holiday with his sister Audra, and his mother Victoria Barkley. The family would come to see the youngest brother Eugene at university in Berkley, and spend several weeks with Elizabeth, while Eugene took the train to the city on weekends.
The house in the neighborhood of Pacific Heights was sizeable enough to accommodate a family and guests. It had three main living levels consisting of a formal parlor, a less formal morning room, a fine dining room, five bedchambers spread across the two upper floors, and a water closet above and below for comfort. The basement level was for utility; a kitchen and larder, a distillery, coal cabinet, delivery porch, and servant's quarters; much in a European tradition.
Connell MacCanish had the house built in the autumn of 1865, shortly after the war. Though Connell, his wife and his daughter had lived on their ranch in Stockton most of the year, they had resided a month or two in San Francisco and then travelled to the ranches of Connell's two brothers Muirfinn and Gillis, farther north of the bay.
These ranches were rambling contiguous estates principally for the growing of walnuts, hazelnuts, almonds, figs, and fruits; and vineyards which produced grapes just prime for a praiseworthy brandy and a fine table wine.
Elizabeth now resided permanently in the house in San Francisco since her father's passing the summer of 1872, and the death of her mother Rose the year prior. She had chosen to live in the city; of her own will, for her own reasons. The ranch lands near Stockton were leased by the Barkley's, thus adding to Elizabeth's generous income.
The MacCanish clan had come to America from the Scottish West Highlands. The brothers had sold their lands to the local Earl, and they travelled with their wives and young children to California by sailing ship, first to Boston Harbor, and then directly round the Horn to the Port of San Francisco. The MacCanish brothers had been a restless trio; headstrong and adventurous. They were born of social standing, yet had grown weary of English rule and the politics of Clan MacAonghais, a very old and rooted authority of which they belonged. They left the familiarity of their ancestral home of foggy mist covered mountains, mossy grey stones, and fields of heather to begin anew in a land of sunshine and golden opportunity, each having a good head on his shoulders for cultivation, cattle, and mining; and thriving in a wild, untamed frontier. That is what the West and California had been in 1851.
Elizabeth had arrived as an infant, and what she knew of Scotland had been taught to her through imagery painted by her bountiful kin in recollections and song. She was taught traditional Gaelic and proper English, and the old ways of living from the land; yet her father had insisted on her being formally educated, and as modernly independent as a young woman in Victorian America ought to dare become.
Though an only surviving child, Elizabeth had grown up with her many Scot cousins; and also the Barkley children. She attended school with the elder Barkley boys, and holidays were spent together, Christmas at Campbelton Ranch, and Easter at the Barkley Ranch. Elizabeth was like a daughter to Victoria and Tom Barkley. She was a dear friend and companion to their youngest child Audra, and adored and esteemed by a besotted Eugene. Yet to Jarrod and Nick Barkley, respectively a mere six and three years Elizabeth's seniors, she was a girl altogether singular from any they had known.
Brother Heath had not yet had the pleasure of meeting Elizabeth MacCanish. He had come to the Barkley Ranch only a few months earlier, and Elizabeth had not been to Stockton in almost three years. Heath knew of her, however, and she had been told of him, from letters written by Audra and Victoria; and from what Eugene and Jarrod had told her of their foundling brother when they had last been in town.
"How does he get on with Nick?" she had asked of Eugene.
"Better," Eugene had to admit. "They didn't like each other much at first, but they're more alike than they know, and Nick won't admit it, but he needs the help on the ranch. Heath's proven himself a good man."
Elizabeth smiled at the news, and she sighed, "As are all the Barkley men."
"Elizabeth!" Jarrod exclaimed and reached for her hands. She embraced him, and he kissed her cheek. "You are more beautiful each time I see you!" This was not a tactful and delicate lie to satisfy a woman's sensibilities. He turned to his brother and winked, "I thought I'd find you here, Gene."
Eugene laughed, "I wouldn't miss a chance for you to buy me supper at the Cliff House!"
"Nor would I," Elizabeth giggled, blushing at the prospect of a night about town with two handsome men.
"The Cliff House it is," Jarrod said, rubbing his hands together in anticipation of an excellent evening.
Saturday night at the Cliff House was a splendid affair. It was the place for the nouveau riche of the West to be seen, all the more so through the shrouds of fog that clung to the Pacific coastline during the spring and summer months. It was a damp and chilly trip by carriage, but a body warmed once inside near a roaring hearth in the grand dining room, and by the heat generated by so many fashionable people in the dance hall below.
Having been a lawyer for some years with an office in the city, Jarrod Barkley was acquainted with as many inhabitants of San Francisco as Elizabeth, and they both did their part to introduce Eugene to their friends and acquaintances. There was one person in particular who Gene knew that evening. In the heart of the vestibule stood Hester Convers, dressed in her city finery and surrounded by her many suitors and admirers; a purposeful situation unavoidable to anyone who happened to enter the building.
"Jarrod Barkley, what a pleasant surprise!"
"Miss Convers," Jarrod remained all politeness in as succinct a greeting as he could muster.
"Oh posh, since when have I become Miss Convers and not merely Hester?"
"Since you left the valley," Eugene was not so politic as his brother. It was plain by the austere look directed at Gene that Jarrod was not pleased by the meeting.
"Well," Hester dismissed any awkwardness between the Barkley brothers and herself, "Have the halibut or sole for supper, the crab is not yet in season."
Elizabeth's curiosity could not be quelled once seated at a well-situated table and Jarrod had ordered a good bottle of wine.
"When was Hester Convers in Stockton?"
"Two months ago," Eugene offered up the information.
There was not much in the way of news of the valley that Elizabeth did not know. She generally had it on first account in a letter from Victoria, or at the very least, from Audra. She had however heard nothing of Hester Convers being near Stockton; far removed from her element of the life of the burgeoning San Francisco elite.
"She seems well acquainted with you," Elizabeth goaded, somewhat concerned for her friend. "Surely, Jarrod, you did not fall under her spell?"
"No," Jarrod said with great care and an arch of a brow; and he glanced once again at Gene in an attempt to stifle any careless reply that his youngest brother might offer. "We thought it best not to speak much to the matter."
Eugene couldn't resist saying, "For Nick's sake."
Elizabeth's look of abhorrence was aimed first at Gene and then promptly back toward a guilt-laden Jarrod. Elizabeth MacCanish and Hester Convers were both of San Francisco society, but they unquestionably did not share the same circle of close friends. One woman knew of the other, for certain, though Elizabeth did not have a lofty opinion of Miss Convers and her larks; and only Miss Convers knew of her opinion of Miss MacCanish.
"You mean to tell me," Elizabeth could hear herself say through the dull ringing in her ears, "Nick—and Hester Convers!"
"Lizzie," Jarrod tried to quell her astonishment by the use of the name of endearment so often used by her father, "It was an error of judgment."
Eugene could only manage a swift nod of his head when Elizabeth turned back to him for confirmation. The whole account was relayed to Elizabeth over plenty of wine, and a good supper. To Elizabeth's utter astonishment, Nick Barkley had engaged himself to Hester Convers, having met her through a mutual acquaintance in San Francisco two months prior. The lady had readily accepted Nick's very hasty proposal, more so for his wealth and family name than for the man, himself.
The pair had travelled immediately back to the Barkley Ranch to announce an engagement, only for Hester to quickly determine that her enjoyment of the association of a great number of gentleman admirers was much more to her liking than the prospect of being the wife of a rancher, and as was her habit she quickly made untoward advances to Heath. The whole business ended with Nick and Heath in a fistfight after a logging camp dance, with Nick tumbling down a ravine, cruelly injuring his spine. Hester returned, without a good deal of regret on her part, to San Francisco society; leaving the Barkley family to mend their wounds, and the brothers to make amends for their fires, seen and unseen.
"Shocking!" Elizabeth replied aloud, then soughed beneath her breath in Gaelic, "Tochaltóir Óir!" She wet her parched lips, asking, "Nick, is he recovered?"
"He is, Elizabeth," Jarrod reached out to take her hand in comfort. "Nick's just fine."
"He's impetuous," Elizabeth declared, though secretly it was one of the aspects she found charming in Nick's character, "and that woman is ridiculous."
Jarrod chuckled at Elizabeth's passion, and shrugged, "Well, yes, I think you have a grasp on the affair; but Elizabeth, Nick has changed some in three years; a lot in the last six since father died. He's had to grow up; the ranch is his responsibility. He knows full well that mother expects him to own that duty, and," Jarrod thought a moment, and smiled, "I suspect he thinks it's his time to settle down. Family has always meant a great deal to Nick."
Elizabeth's face appeared flushed. "I've had too much wine," she muttered in her slight brogue, and excused herself to visit the powder room. The dining room had become uncomfortably hot with the bodies of patrons and the heat from the fire. Elizabeth wound her way through tables and diners and once alone she wiped the perspiration from her neck and cheeks with a damp, cool towel and held it alternately against her ears, which were scarlet in color on hearing the recount of Nick and Hester Convers.
When Elizabeth returned to the table, she felt somewhat better, and was able to finish the remainder of her supper and enjoy the good company of her dear companions. It seemed, however, that the presence of Hester Convers taunted Elizabeth the rest of the evening; the sound of the woman laughing gaily at the hollow drivel offered by her many admirers in the room disturbed Elizabeth's countenance like pin-pricks to the skin. It could not be jealousy that provoked such ire, Elizabeth assured herself, but the total lack of propriety of the manners of Hester Convers, and the idiocy with which men were so easily smitten by the face of a pretty flirt.
Elizabeth MacCanish could unquestionably turn a man's head when entering a room, and normally did, but it was not in her character to use such charms to improper advantage. There were very few eligible women in San Francisco. It had been a town built by men, for men, however the women who had chosen to make the young city their home were primarily pioneers. They were modern women who took up trades of photography, publishing, and science; and evermore increasingly, women suffragettes; and then there were fortune hunters like Miss Convers.
Jarrod, Gene and Elizabeth made their way to quit the restaurant for their carriage when Elizabeth overhead Hester Convers telling three dandy gentlemen, "They are the brothers of the man I told you about in Stockton. I simply couldn't see myself as the doting wife of some rancher from the valley."
Elizabeth was confident this comment was meant for her benefit, as a dismissal of the company she was keeping that night, as well as for the amusement of the vain San Francisco snobbery. Certainly, no decent woman could wish to demean Nicholas Barkley, or the good life he had undoubtedly planned for his prospective bride.
As she passed, Elizabeth turned to Miss Convers and her admirers; a storm welling in the gaze of the young woman's bluish-green eyes, as she angrily questioned, "What sort of elegance, Miss Convers, exists in a woman who would torment a respectable man? I pity you; I don't believe you will ever know the joy of being loved so well, as you could have been loved by a rancher from the valley."
Elizabeth held fast to Gene's arm to steady herself, her mind and head spinning from the exhibition of her frankness, and the wine; and Gene took her out of the building. Jarrod, however, delayed; long enough to cast a satisfied and amused grin in the direction of Hester Convers and her astonished entourage.
"Miss MacCanish!" a handsome young fellow in a smart brown pinstripe suit exclaimed on meeting Elizabeth on Market Street the following afternoon.
"Good day to you, Mr. Haight."
"Please, call me Harry."
Elizabeth colored. "Harry."
"What brings you out today?" the young gentleman asked.
At two and twenty he was a few years Elizabeth's junior; a dandy fellow, quite handsome in appearance, whose father Mr. Henry Haight had made a fortune during the gold rush as a city bank manager for the Banking House of Page, Bacon & Co. Harry's mother was of a society family from Connecticut, her marriage arranged by her father, and young Harry lived yet with his parents in a majestic stone mansion on the hill. He had danced with Elizabeth at a party not long ago and had made up his mind to become better acquainted with the beautiful and accomplished Miss MacCanish, for she had all the allure of a woman of good society, without the deprivation of sense.
"A little shopping brings me out and about," she smiled in answer to his question, "and now I am for home."
"Please," he entreated in eagerness, "join me for afternoon tea at the Palace Hotel. I'll tell your driver to park in front. Shall we walk there together?" Harry extended a gallant arm of resolve, and Elizabeth slipped her hand through the crook of his elbow.
Refreshment was certainly what Elizabeth had needed, and Harry Haight was good company, even if he was a Nob Hill swell. "Rumor has it," Harry grinned, intently watching Elizabeth sip her cream tea, "that you put Hester Convers in her place last night."
Elizabeth coughed as she swallowed the tea. "That is simply idle gossip, Mr. Haight."
"Harry," he corrected her. "I think not; and I congratulate you on managing it."
Elizabeth felt annoyed at the mere mention of the woman. "In ways too numerous to count, Miss Convers has hurt my good friends deeply."
Harry pondered a moment, coolly finishing a tea sandwich. "Then she did deserve it, Elizabeth," he allowed himself the ease of addressing his companion by her familiar name; which Elizabeth allowed. "I'll take you to your carriage," he said once they had finished tea, "but may I call on you one afternoon?"
"Harry," she dismissed his objective, "your parents are not likely to wish you to know a girl whose family were immigrants."
"Why not?" he was indifferent to her statement. "Your parents had wealth, and so now do you. I'd say you are a match well fit for any man of means."
Jarrod's business in San Francisco lasted three weeks, and he planned to leave in two days, stopping in Berkley to fetch Eugene home to Stockton for the summer months. Elizabeth surprised him with a visit to his office that morning.
"You are just in time for me to take you to lunch, lovely lady."
"That would be grand Jarrod, but that's not why I've come. I've come to seek your counsel and I could use your good advice. I have a decision I must make."
"Oh?" Jarrod was curious.
"Perhaps it is time to consider selling the ranch," Elizabeth pondered, more than she proposed as a certain possibility.
"Sell the ranch? There's no need for that."
"It does no good vacant, and I've heard of interest in the property in the past year, Jarrod."
"The family hoped you would come back to Stockton one day, Lizzie; perhaps to settle there with a husband. I know that was the dream of your father. And Nick…Nick would sooner give up his left foot than see that land go to a stranger."
"Nick," Elizabeth sighed his name in a manner of some disenchantment.
Jarrod thought a moment and from his heart he proposed, "What if I were to make you an offer?"
Elizabeth sat on the large leather chair across from Jarrod's mahogany desk. It seemed as though her petite frame had been swallowed up by the formidable piece of office furniture; she looked small, miserable, and confused.
"I've been thinking about Nick," she sighed again, "and that you say he has changed in the last few years, Jarrod."
Jarrod folded his arms. "What about Nick?" he responded, wanting to know more of Elizabeth's mind as concerned his brother.
She declined to speak further on the subject, instead choosing to say, "I left Stockton for San Francisco to prove to myself that I was a woman of strength and independence, a woman of a modern society. I suppose I have achieved that aim to satisfy my vanity, yet my parents will never know the result. I have only myself to please; and to be honest I've found that independence is a very lonely business for a woman. As for society; the more people I meet in this city, the more I feel out of place, a foreigner."
"Nonsense," Jarrod took her by the hands as she stood up from the chair. "You are no more a foreigner in this land than my family."
"That's not exactly what I mean," Elizabeth smiled.
Jarrod was resolute; inasmuch as he had seen a change in Nick, he now saw the same in Elizabeth, and he was convinced that what he was about to say and do was right for Elizabeth, as well as for the benefit of his own family.
"Come back with me, Lizzie. Come back to Stockton on Friday with me and Gene and stay at the ranch with us; Mother would want it that way, we all want it that way."
Jarrod drew her close and kissed her forehead, "Say you will. For a week or two; for a month, whatever suits you, honey? You can't decide to sell the ranch after being away from Stockton for so long."
Jarrod was a voice of reason in an otherwise foggy realm, and by his good sense he made Elizabeth feel secure, as when she had lived and had the good counsel of her dear father. She nodded in agreement, and expressed the desire to return to her house to pack her things for the trip.
"You had better wire your mother, Jarrod."
He smiled; relieved by her decision; his enduring love for the lass reflected in his expression, and he replied, "There's no need."
Jack found Miss MacCanish in the morning room. She was humming while wrapping packages in blue paper to be placed in a trunk which was to be loaded on the train for Stockton the following morning.
"Mr. Haight?" Elizabeth was surprised when Jack announced a visitor for the mistress.
"Yes, Miss."
"Very well, Jack. Please show him to the parlor."
Elizabeth delayed a few moments before fixing her hair and smoothing her skirts to be presentable enough to receive the caller. She then made her way to the parlor.
"Good morning, Mr. Haight," she greeted.
Harry Haight was smartly dressed in a tailored blue morning suit with a starched white collared shirt. He was the picture of gentlemanly perfection, and he was well aware of that fact.
"Good morning," he grinned, "Harry."
Elizabeth bent to his trying insistence on the familiar; "Harry…will you have a seat?"
The young man chose a comfortable armchair and crossed a nattily dressed leg over the other. The smell of costly spice cologne scented the room as he smoothed out the fabric of his sac coat with hands so neat and clean, hands that had never been made to saddle a horse, till the earth, or mend a fencepost.
"I've come to hear of a party, of which I have received my invitation; at the residence of John Gough this coming Saturday night. I would be pleased by your good company, dear Elizabeth."
Elizabeth guardedly grinned as Harry Haight certainly possessed a superior and determined manner. "I am flattered, Harry, though I must decline."
"Surely I have not been outdone by another man," he contemplated momentarily. "I've only just received the invitation this morning."
To this reply, Elizabeth bit her lip to quash a giggle. "Not at all, but I am leaving tomorrow morning on the nine o'clock to Stockton."
"Stockton?" Harry soughed in disbelief. "To such a place, and alone?"
"I am traveling and staying with friends, Mr. Jarrod Barkley and his family."
"Barkley," Harry pronounced the name with a harrumph. "I know of the Stockton Barkleys, but we have never crossed paths. There are quite a few sons, so I hear."
"Yes, there are four grown sons; and a daughter."
"And the sons; all married?"
"Not a one," Elizabeth somewhat enjoyed his prying.
"Why go now?"
"Stockton is where my father's ranch is located, and I've been thinking of perhaps offering the land up for sale."
"Indeed," this was a welcome revelation to Harry. "My father is wanting to purchase farm land in the valley. Perhaps he and I should travel to Stockton ourselves and look it over; particularly since you will be there to receive us."
Elizabeth laughed aloud at Harry's presumptuousness, and teased, "You would not last a week in such a place."
"Eh, now," Harry's right brow arched with offense.
"Ranching is a difficult and demanding life; it is not the sort of reality you were born to, Harry. Besides, Stockton can be a rough and tumble place. There are cowboys and miners, even outlaws in waterfront saloons, no better than the Barbary Coast; all riding horses and mules. I can only think of a few families with a proper carriage; and the men of the town, their clothes dusty and neglected, with gun belts worn low for a quick draw."
Elizabeth's words painted a shocking scene for Harry's benefit; Elizabeth, like most members of her family, was a fair storyteller. Stockton was a town peculiar to itself, differing from any town, but particularly a town in the east. It had begun as a small camp called Tuleburg at the northern end of the San Joaquin Valley, and its name was changed soon after Tom and Victoria Barkley had decided to make the area their new home. Tom had seen potential in the valley and the surrounding hills,; and the young couple was eager to be an integral part of molding that potential into a lifestyle of good living for their coming family.
In Stockton, there was little visible distinction by dress and accoutrement between a wealthy man and that of a tradesman or laborer. The wealthy man earned his money by hard work and sweat, the same as most folk; his home and his lands were close to being held sacred and his family, being of pioneering stock, was everything of value. Experience had taught the western settler to be wary of a stranger, and Elizabeth was not persuaded that Harry Haight, by his haughty manner and his apparel of well-to-do idleness would make him a welcome visitor, let alone an acceptable resident.
Harry was mortified, clambered to his feet and suggested, "Then I shouldn't see you go to Stockton, Elizabeth. Remain in San Francisco where it's safe. This Jarrod Barkley, let him handle the particulars of any sale."
"That he will, if the occasion arises; but I do need to go for a time. I want to see the place again, for myself."
Harry looked wretched. "Well I suppose you have set your mind to it," he frowned. "May I ask how long you intend to be gone?"
"A while," Elizabeth confessed, "perhaps quite a while."
There was nothing for Harry to do but shrug off the rejection, and Jack brought out the gentleman's Tammany. With a stealthy nod from Elizabeth, the good houseman showed young Harry to the front door.
"Are you certain you won't delay your trip?" he asked of Elizabeth again while cocking the hat on his head. "It would save me the trouble of engaging another young lady for the party."
Elizabeth sighed, smiling as civilly as decorum would allow. "As tempting as your offer is, Harry," she exhaled again, "I'm afraid any such engagement is impossible."
Elizabeth's description of Stockton had not been that fanciful and farfetched. As the train pulled into the station, she could see those cowboys and miners she had described to Harry Haight, along with disheveled children running to and fro, and women dressed in their country fashions, suitable for utility as well as an outing in town on boarded walkways. Stockton's streets were unpaved, different from the brick thoroughfares of San Francisco, which had just built its Clay Street cable cars for the convenience of the citizens. Stockton's mode of transportation was a saddle horse, a buggy or a buckboard. The scene before her made Elizabeth smile, and she was excited to be back in such a place, albeit a little fretful for her state of overdress.
At once she saw Victoria and Audra Barkley waiting on the station platform. Audra caught sight of Elizabeth through the car window and squealed with delight, pointing out her friend to her mother. Victoria's face beamed, for not only was she happy to have her sons back home, but her heart was full of joy at finally seeing Elizabeth return. Jarrod helped Elizabeth onto the platform from the train, and before greeting her sons, Victoria rushed to Elizabeth and held out her arms; and the young woman was pleased to be received by such an affectionate, motherly embrace.
"My dear, Lizzie," Victoria exclaimed, squeezing Elizabeth, clasping her pretty face within her hands. "This is a surprise!" she uttered, looking as if she would burst into happy tears.
Audra was laughing and weeping, and when her mother was done with her greeting, the younger girl enveloped her friend and sniffled, "Lizzie, you've come back!"
Elizabeth kissed her friend's tender cheek. "I have," she replied. "I think it about time for a visit, don't you?"
Audra would rather have heard Elizabeth say she was back for good, but she told her friend in unequivocal terms, "You had better stay some time. Stay a good long time!"
"I wanted Jarrod to wire you that I was to come to Stockton."
"And spoil the chance to witness this cheerful reunion?" Jarrod laughed incredulously. "Not a chance!"
Victoria was insistent, slipping her arm through the young woman's elbow; "You never have to be announced, dear Lizzie. This is a good day; you will finally meet Heath, and Silas will bend over backward to make you comfortable, and have spring flowers in your room every evening; and Nick," Victoria paused, always having suspected her second son's ardent affection for Elizabeth MacCanish. "Nick won't believe his eyes."
"He might even be speechless!" Audra laughed for teasing her boisterous brother; and Elizabeth laughed as well, though she wondered if that would be true.
Silas, the Barkley's major domo, and Ciego, the ranch hand were elated to see Miss MacCanish when the surrey arrived in front of the great white ranch house. She was not above giving them both a fond hug, and they carried her baggage into the house, putting it away in the best guest quarters. As Victoria had predicted, it was not long before Silas had a fresh bouquet of early white roses and trailing greenery placed in an ivy bowl on the nightstand beside the bed where Elizabeth was to sleep.
"Come with me," Victoria took Elizabeth by the hand once she was settled, and they walked out to the farthest corral where Nick and Heath were culling unbroken horses; determining which were best for breeding with blooded stock and which best for breaking as utility horses.
"My, oh my," Heath was the first to see the oncoming party, his interest engaged more than normal. "Who is that beauty with the auburn hair?"
Nick whirled about, and his expressions were comical as they transformed from curiosity, to uncertainty, to recognition, in rapid succession. "I don't believe it," he expressed his doubt aloud, then he grinned broadly, "that beauty, Brother Heath; she is my beauty."
Nick wasted no time in striding through the gate of the corral. At first he stopped dead still in front of Elizabeth, swiping his hat from his head and eyeing her with trepidation and a little hesitation; and when she smiled and softly spoke his name in the way in which he had wanted to hear for so long, the temptation was too great not to wrap his arms around her, lift her gently from her feet and twirl her about in outright elation. Elizabeth laughed aloud, for there was little pomp and ceremony between the pair; they had been friends and companions since childhood.
"I told you he'd be speechless," Audra made her family laugh.
"Welcome home, Lizzie," Nick breathed gently near Elizabeth's ear; the floral scent of her hair ever so intoxicating and happily familiar.
She returned the gesture by whispering back in the same manner, "I've missed you, Nick."
Nick carefully placed Elizabeth back on the ground, and although he could barely take his eyes off her, he glanced at Heath and introduced the two. Elizabeth was not troubled by a little trail dirt and the smell of horses, and when Heath politely smiled and greeted her by tipping his hat, she took his hand and held it fast, telling him how many good things she had heard of him since his arrival, and how happy she was to finally meet in person. There was no jealousy or distrust in Nick right then, for he knew Elizabeth's warmth and manners were genuine, whereas in Hester, he had not been convinced at first, and after a little time, his suspicions had been painfully confirmed.
"You boys had better come in and bathe before supper," Victoria pointed at Nick and Heath. "I have a feeling we'll be having something very good to eat, and I'm in no doubt of a special dessert."
The Barkley men all looked clean and sharp that evening, and Audra bounded down the stairs dressed in a pretty gown that Elizabeth had brought. It was a little short and a bit snug, but this did not deter Audra. There was nothing Audra enjoyed more than shopping with Elizabeth, and learning of the latest fashions when in San Francisco, but having Elizabeth loan her such a fine garment was satisfaction enough. She showed it to her mother and brothers, and Victoria looked gratefully to Elizabeth for loving her daughter as dearly as an elder sister might.
"I've brought a few things for you all," Elizabeth's voice hinted with the melodious tone it displayed when she was pleased, and she looked to the family's matriarch.
"Come and have supper first, you must be hungry, dear."
The dining table had been lengthened to accommodate the addition of Elizabeth and Gene, and it was bedecked with intricate candelabras and a large flowered centerpiece. Silas had done himself proud by the freshly polished table settings, pristine china, and sparkling pressed glass stemware. Supper was simple, several roasted chickens, crispy potatoes, spring asparagus, fresh fruit and cheese, and a good Barkley cellar wine. It was ranch fare, and Elizabeth found it delicious and comforting.
After supper there was good conversation to be had around the table as was the custom in the Barkley household, and Elizabeth was happy to be included. The men spoke of the day's work and discussed the latest cattle prices, and the progress of what crops had recently been planted in the spring fields. Jarrod told the family of his legal dealings in San Francisco concerning the ranch and other investments, and what little he could of his latest client's case. Audra seemed inattentive, and when the men finished discussing business, she asked if it was time to see the things Elizabeth had brought. This interested Eugene more than the price of cattle, and so they offered to help Elizabeth fetch the packages she had wrapped in light blue paper before leaving San Francisco.
Audra was the first to tear the wrapping from her package. Inside a box was a beautiful gown of green silk, which Elizabeth had sent for from Godey's. Eugene opened his package next. He was proud to find a satin waistcoat of Barclay tartan, composed of thin white stripes crossed by larger black stripes on a background of solid butterscotch. Jarrod and Nick each received a bottle of good scotch; and Jarrod a box of Celestiales cigars and for Nick a box of Macanudo Cubans traded by his favorite tobacconist on Market Street, and for Heath, a pouch of fine Turkish smoking tobacco, and a bottle of MacCanish brandy. There was even a box of saltwater taffy for Silas, as Elizabeth remembered he had a sweet tooth.
Victoria opened her package last, insisting that Elizabeth should not have brought so many gifts, however when she opened a paper box and saw the beautiful lace tablecloth inside, intricately detailed with scenes of wild stags and magnificent trees and ferns, she gasped.
"I've never seen anything so beautiful."
"I'm happy you like it," Elizabeth smiled.
"Well," Jarrod announced, "join us in the study ladies."
"In a bit, Jarrod," Victoria replied. "Once the table is cleared, Elizabeth and I are going to have a good look at this tablecloth."
Audra scurried to her room to try on her gown and admire herself in the full length mirror, and the men all escaped to the study to have a glass of the fine scotch and a smoke, and perhaps a game of billiards at the new table.
Elizabeth and Victoria spread the tablecloth across the dining table and both women stood back to admire it. "It was tatted on the Isle of Iona," Elizabeth declared. "I have some lace that my mother brought with her when they left Scotland. I would go and pull it out of a cedar chest as a little girl and drape it over my head to admire it, and my mother put it away for my wedding veil, with a mother-of-pearl comb to fasten it in my hair."
Victoria gazed attentively at Elizabeth. The sweet girl she had once known had grown so lovely, wholly a woman; and Victoria thought of how proud Elizabeth's parents would have been of their daughter. It had been difficult for Elizabeth to find her place in the world after her parents were gone. Her family had been her entire life, yet when she had been left alone Elizabeth had chosen to venture out and live in the city, and learn of what civilization had to offer beyond the rustic shelter of ranch life. Victoria had never heard Elizabeth speak of marriage, or any plans which concerned a wedding. It was remarkable to hear her account of the lace for a wedding veil, and Victoria thought perhaps Elizabeth was entertaining the idea of matrimony.
"Are you engaged to be married, dear?" Victoria pried.
Elizabeth turned; wide-eyed toward her friend, giggling as she did so, in discomfiture. "Me? I am most definitely not!"
Victoria laughed at such a reaction. "I thought perhaps you were here to tell us some news."
"No," Elizabeth shied away from any revelations, thinking of what only Jarrod was so far aware of, in the possible sale of the ranch. "No news, but Victoria..."
"Yes, my dear?"
"I have heard what happened to Nick, I mean, what happened between Nick and Hester Convers. Jarrod, Eugene and I saw her one evening out at supper, and the boys told me of the broken engagement. I'm very sorry that it ended badly; it must have been difficult for Nick, and for you. I couldn't bear to see him suffer, if I was his mother, that is."
Victoria could readily see Elizabeth's distress; almost pain in finding the words to express her regret to who she thought was a brokenhearted mother for her son's rejection and the loss of a prospective daughter-in-law.
"Elizabeth," Victoria laid a comforting arm across the slender back of the young woman, "Nick has recovered from his injuries, and I'm not sure that after what he had to learn from the affair, he is so miserable. As for myself, I simply did not believe that the match was right, and I had much prefer that if Nick suffered at all, it would be that his pride suffered for having been so hasty in his choices. Better to know that a woman will not be a good wife before the marriage than after, and Nick learned a lesson in the ways of the world."
"I suppose," Elizabeth agreed; the tautness of her face would have eased and her heart might have settled back into a normal cadence, were it not for one more question in her mind. "Did he love her?"
Victoria paused at the enquiry, perhaps for not knowing the true answer, and perhaps for wondering why Elizabeth would ask. "I don't know the answer, only that he thought he could have loved the girl, had she been the proper choice."
Elizabeth sighed to herself; her mind and heart finding no real comfort in Victoria's answer. Then again, Elizabeth wasn't sure that had she known the truth to her question, the knowledge would have given her comfort.
"That lace for your veil," Victoria disrupted Elizabeth's thoughts, "You'll have to show it to me soon."
Nick was content, sitting in an armchair, his feet up on a stool in the library, while he puffed on a Macanudo. "This is a damn fine smoke," he exhaled with satisfaction. "Glad to be home, Jarrod?"
"I am," Jarrod confirmed. "San Francisco is trying at times."
"I think it's exciting," Eugene admitted, intently listening to his elder brothers and nursing a scant jigger of the scotch, "I had a fine time at the Cliff House, particularly when Elizabeth scolded Hester Convers."
At the mention of her name, Heath felt uncomfortable; and Nick dropped his feet to the floor to exclaim, "What?"
Jarrod sighed. "We saw Hester out at supper one night, which was when Elizabeth heard of what happened between you two."
All the easiness Nick had been relishing at having his family home was gone in an instant. "You told Elizabeth?"
"She was bound to find out, Nick," Jarrod did his best to soothe his hot-tempered sibling. "Hester was boasting to a group of admirers of having broken off your engagement. Elizabeth overheard and just told her off; and let me tell you, it was worth witnessing."
Nick got up from his chair to pace. His jaw clenched as he strode to and fro, and his brothers could see his unhappiness for he had not thought about the two women ever meeting, let alone engaged in discussing his mistakes. Jarrod took the decanter of scotch, poured a glass for himself and handed another to Nick.
"It was the darnedest thing, Nick. Elizabeth was as mad as a hornet, and for once Hester was speechless. They are not the best of friends by any means."
Nick took a drink of the scotch before saying crossly, "Why would they be? Those two are nothing alike."
"Boys, give Nick and I a minute alone, will you?"
"Nick," Jarrod laid a hand on his brother's shoulder and gave him a nudge; "maybe it's time."
"Time for what, Jarrod?"
"To renew what we both know has always been between you and Elizabeth."
Nick sighed and rubbed at his eyes, then swiped back the unruly lock of hair that had fallen onto his forehead while pacing. "Maybe."
"I think if you don't, there may come a time you'll regret hesitating. It may come sooner than you realize."
Nick exhaled in some doubt, "If it was me she wanted, Jarrod, why go to San Francisco at all? I would have married Elizabeth on any day of her choosing. All she had to do was say so."
"I'm not sure that's how it works, Nick."
Nick and Connell MacCanish had been close friends, the sort of relationship between a mentor and pupil, particularly after Tom Barkley had been killed by the Western and Coastal railroad men. Nick took over the management of the ranch, and Connell had taken him under his tutelage where Tom had left off much too soon with his second son. Nick had all the natural ability and desire of a cattleman. He had an easy way with livestock, and a fine head for management, and he spent a good deal of time picking Connell's brain to become one of the most successful ranchers in the state.
When Tom had died, Jarrod had been established in his law practice, Eugene but a young boy, and as the middle son Nick had not yet been prepared to have been left to his own campaign. He had grown up a determined and rowdy youth, often disciplined by his father for his boisterousness and rash choices, but like his father he stood firm in his beliefs and had grown into a fine, principled man.
Nick had survived a difficult conflict of a divided nation by his wits and skills in warfare, and his ability to handle a gun; far removed for some years from his parents, siblings, friends, and the California land he loved to work with Tom. When he returned home it took time to settle back into ranch life. Tom's death had affected Nick the most of all the Barkley progeny. Everyone mourned in their own way, but Nick soon put aside his anger and grief and found he wanted nothing more than to carry on the life his father had built, and he longed for a good woman to share his dreams. A marriage much like his parents; though he had little concept then at twenty-two of what it was to be a good husband.
Elizabeth had acknowledged this of Nick; she also had known of her own failings when Connell had died, and although Nick had desired nothing more than to continue life on the Barkley Ranch with Connell's daughter as his bride; he had never made that wish crystal clear to Elizabeth. When she left for San Francisco with her belongings in tow, Nick said his goodbyes with more anguish than he had felt before or since with any other girl he had ever known. His young man's pride kept him from uttering his forlorn emotions, his desires for her, and he grudgingly and a little crossly let the girl go. He had not been to see her in San Francisco; in his stubbornness he thought that was what Elizabeth wanted.
"Nick, Elizabeth came to see me at the office in San Francisco, wondering of my opinion at possibly selling the ranch."
"No," Nick rejected the idea, reacting just as Jarrod had suspected. "Why would she want to do that?"
"I don't know. Maybe you should ask her?"
"It's not my place, Jarrod." Nick felt wretched at the prospect of any sort of rejection by another woman; it seemed too soon to lay his heart wide open as he had with Hester; and he was disinclined to reveal any further feelings on the subject.
"Nick, Jarrod?" the son's heard their mother's voice. "Are we intruding?"
Jarrod's brows furrowed, but Nick denied that there was any need for them to be alone with their private business. Nick was intent at the task of studying Elizabeth that evening. Jarrod's disclosure of Elizabeth's desire to sell Connell's ranch had upset Nick considerably. He'd come to think of the property as an extension of himself, he worked and cared for the land; it held memories of Connell and it was Elizabeth's only solid connection to the valley. He wondered if life would have been different had he not lost those years to the war; if his father and Connell had not died far too soon, and if he had only swallowed his young man's pride and told Elizabeth how dearly he held her in esteem, and pulled her off that train.