Chapter 2
Audra was the last Barkley to be seated for breakfast in the morning. Elizabeth was nowhere to be seen and
Victoria asked her daughter if their guest was still asleep.
"No," Audra replied to her mother, "she's in the kitchen with Silas preparing a wellington for supper."
This news was met with grins of anticipation from Nick and Jarrod. Heath asked, "What the devil is a
wellington?"
"A slice of heaven," Jarrod responded, and Nick agreed.
"She's a guest," Victoria marked, and got up from her place at the head of the table to bustle into the kitchen.
"Lizzie dear, come have breakfast; you shouldn't be cooking!"
"I'm not one to be idle, and if I'm going to stay at this ranch I'd like to be useful." Elizabeth smiled, "It gives
me pleasure to be tending to a family again, Victoria."
On hearing such a petition, Victoria thought it best to accept the young woman's desire, and she joined Silas in looking over Elizabeth's shoulder, watching her nimble hands roll out dough to encase the fine looking beef loin Elizabeth had chosen, along with a mixture of mushrooms and shallots. She was adept at making the dish having helped her mother prepare it on many occasions. The seams of dough were gently sealed, and Elizabeth cut small shapes of leaves from the remaining dough to adorn the top. Once it was finished, the wellington went into the icebox until the proper time to be baked that evening.
Elizabeth sat down to join the others for breakfast. "I think I'll walk to Campbelton this morning," she
announced.
Nick looked up from inspecting the coffee cup he held in his hands; "I'll have Ciego saddle you a horse."
Audra snickered at Elizabeth's reaction to the mere mention of such an idea. Elizabeth had blanched, but patiently and pointedly replied, "Horses and I don't get on Nick, remember?"
"Then he can take you in the buggy."
"I don't mind walking."
Nick thought a moment, remembering how Elizabeth had always loved to amble about the countryside, looking at the plants and flowers as she went; and he shrugged realizing argument was pointless. "Well," he said with authority, "You'd best go early and come back before three o'clock. It seems to cloud up and storm in the afternoons. Today isn't likely to be much different."
"I will," Elizabeth was touched by his concern, yet badgered him good naturedly; "I'll be back in plenty of time to finish making your supper."
Elizabeth walked along the road toward the west, and Campbelton Ranch; a path that was familiar from her youth. It had barely changed at all, the same fences and fields, only the trees seemed larger and fuller. She stopped to inspect a newly planted field, vibrantly green with the sprouts of spring barley, here and there a scattering of sunflowers, the heads not nearly ready to open, and the promise of purple thistle and cattails along the drainage ditch beside the road.
Busy robins scuttled to and fro on the ground in search of worms, stopping to drink from small puddles leftover from the rain of the following night. Fat quail in pairs emerged from beneath scattered mounds of sagebrush, their newly hatched chicks scurrying behind in a frenzied attempt to keep up with their parents. Black and white magpies majestically soared from fencepost to fencepost, and blue scrub jays hollered as Elizabeth came too close to the trees which lodged their nests.
Half the distance from the Barkley Ranch to Campbelton was a place known as Poppy Hill. That was not its actual name, it had none, for it was merely a knoll with several oak trees, a negligible hill with a relatively flat top and a narrow grassy travel-way leading from the road to the plateau. The surrounding lands had been fenced long ago by Nick, Tom and Connell preventing cattle and horses from grazing there, and so Poppy Hill became a beloved spot to Elizabeth for the wildflowers that bloomed undisturbed in the spring and early summer. Scattered throughout poppies were wild purple lupine, yellow cinquefoil, fiddlenecks and clover, but the poppies were the attraction.
For several weeks a profusion of golden blossoms covered the sides and top of the knoll, a plethora of yellows and reds, yet mostly vibrant petals of orange, a palette of color to rival the finest coastal sunset. It was an odd thing about poppies; they looked so delicate, yet were oh so hardy. They flourished and bloomed whether a year had been wet or dry, though the flowers would not last when picked, and the plants with fern-like foliage were disobliging to transplant. The flowers themselves opened wide in daylight, worshiping the sun, and closed up tightly at night as though basking in all that warmth made them deserving of a good night's sleep. They spread and multiplied by the wind scattering scores of tiny black seeds when the flower stems had dried; the proliferation of their kind could not be stopped.
Nick had known where to find Elizabeth if she were not at home. "Try Poppy Hill, son," Connell would say to his young friend in the late afternoon when school had let out, Nick's chores were done and he had a little time before supper. He would race his Modoc pony down the road, make a sharp turn up the grassy travel-way to the top of the knoll, to find the girl sitting among the flowers. Naturally and medicinally, the poppies were soothing to the senses, and the sight of them in mass, the flowers seeming to float above the grasses, ebbing and flowing in a slight breeze was nearly hypnotic.
Nick would lay among the flowers to rest and listen to Elizabeth sing folk songs taught to her by her family, or read aloud from one of the many miniature bound books she would buy when the family was in San Francisco. Elizabeth never went anywhere without a book, and she read to Nick the classics, Shakespeare, Bronte, Burnett, Dickens, Austen, and Sir Walter Scott.
Elizabeth smiled at seeing Poppy Hill once more as she passed by; she smiled for the memories of youth and fancy the sight of the emerging poppies conjured in her mind, and smiled for the recollection of a gangly, boyish Nick. Those had been happy days for a young girl and boy; days when families were whole, a country was at peace, and life was measured and simple. Neither of them had possessed a care then of what was expected; the past was an echo which belonged to others, and the future too distant to matter.
It was not much further for Elizabeth to walk until she came to the gates leading to the empty ranch house at Campbelton. The house had remained vacant and locked since she had left for San Francisco, yet it was no worse for wear, accepting perhaps in need of a fresh coat of paint. The Barkleys had seen to the upkeep of the place, though the stables and corrals were devoid of animals, which saddened Elizabeth. Campbelton had been a lively place in its heyday. It was not uncommon for fifteen to twenty men to have lived in the bunkhouse at any one time, particularly during branding and roundup.
Elizabeth strolled along the bare side yard where Rose and her daughter had once tended a sprawling garden of vegetables, berries, and herbs. Elizabeth may not have had a way with horses and cattle, she left that to her father and Nick, but she had a proclivity for growing vegetables, flowers and fruits. She loved the feel of rich, warm soil on her hands, and while at Campbelton had always seemed to be carrying a wooden trug and a pair of shears. She pruned and snipped, watered and weeded, and her garden had produced a bounty often shared with the Barkleys and other families, for the MacCanish's rarely had gone anywhere empty handed.
If a friend was ill, Elizabeth had brought them soup and savory scones; if a family was hungry Connell had sent wheat or sacks of cornmeal, vegetables and beef; and Rose had made tea scones, biscuits, and cakes for newlyweds, newcomers, and young mothers in confinement with their infants. Harvest time was the busiest time of year, and the MacCanish's and Barkley's lent a hand to those small farmers who could not afford to pay men on the hire to pick and pack their crops.
Apple harvest had been Elizabeth's favorite, when the air turned cool and crisp. Nick and Jarrod would climb the trees and throw down the apples for Elizabeth to scurry about, catch and bag. What was toil, seemed more like a game; and when the chore was finished the families all sat at long tables, drank fresh pressed cider and ate their fill of harvest supper.
Behind the ranch house at Campbelton near a stand of quaking aspen and a Spanish jacaranda were the three headstones marking the resting place of Elizabeth's family; her mother, father, and the grave of an infant boy, born four years after the family had made their home in Stockton. The baby had come much too early, in the winter, and had not survived two weeks. Elizabeth sat down in the grass beside a tree, absent in wistful memories; humming a tune her father had once loved. For Elizabeth, lost in thought, time was meaningless; but the late morning soon became afternoon, and thunderclouds began to form in the southern sky just as Nick had predicted.
Nick and Heath had eaten a quick lunch of sandwiches near the corral, still occupied at culling horses; and when the clouds rolled in and the sky blackened they thought it best to return to the house for the day, after stowing the tack securely in the tack room within the barn. Heath had gone directly in the house to bathe, and it was nearly a half hour later when Nick marched into the house, tossed his dusty hat onto the small round table in the foyer, and purposefully took a look into the great living room where Audra was stitching a handkerchief and Victoria arranged flowers in a treasured old vase which many years ago had been a wedding gift from her good friend Minnie Grant.
"Where's Elizabeth?" Nick asked.
Audra looked up from her stitching. "She's not back yet."
"Not back? It's well past three o'clock."
"She'll be back any moment, Nicholas," Victoria assured her son, yet he went to the French doors, opening them to assess the darkening sky. A strong wind swirled dust from the courtyard, and Nick pulled the doors shut, quickly fastening the latches. With one purpose in mind he strode to a desk to secure a ring of keys; then made for the small table, reclaiming the large-brimmed, brown felt Stetson. He called for Silas to fetch his overcoat, and the elder man returned in an instant with Mr. Nick's request.
"I'm going to look for her; if she hasn't left yet she'll get caught in a downpour. We might have to wait it out in the ranch house or the barn. I know the way she would've gone." Nick abruptly left the house through the front door, muttering to himself of bad weather and foolish young women.
It was scarcely ten minutes when Nick reined his winded horse onto the grounds of Campbelton Ranch, and though the surroundings looked deserted, he dismounted and tramped around back to find Elizabeth sitting beneath a tree by the gravestones. He walked up behind her, not bothering to mask the sound of his footsteps or the jingling of his spurs. Elizabeth looked up at Nick, he had become so tall and handsome the figure of a man; a man to be esteemed by a young woman.
"Oh dear," she sighed remorsefully, "It's late, isn't it?"
"It is," Nick rested a hand on his chaps-clad hip. "Come on now," he reached out the other hand to her, "we'd best be getting back. It'll be raining in minutes." Elizabeth took his hand; strong and bolstering in its grip, and he pulled her to her feet and toward his body.
"This place," she spoke, holding onto his coat, "It looks as good as ever. I would have thought it to be overgrown and unkempt?"
He looked down at her, replying in a hush, "I come and tend to it every so often."
Elizabeth let go to turn away and ask with wounded feelings, "You can take care of my father's land, yet you could never come to see his daughter in San Francisco?"
"Hey, now," Nick's voice was gentle; "You know I don't get off the ranch much."
"I'd heard you were in the city once or twice."
Nick grimaced at the statement, "When you left here, Elizabeth, I didn't think you cared to see me."
Elizabeth spun around, singular to her character; her brows knit-together in strife at Nick's false assumption, and with the heel of her hand Elizabeth gave his chest a shove, claiming; "I never wanted anything of the sort!"
Nick grabbed her arms; his ire swelling to equal Elizabeth's; "Did you think when you left it didn't hurt," he declared, the gentleness of his voice, gone. "I waited for you to come home and now I hear you want to sell this ranch and leave for good."
"Waited for me to come home?" she queried, remembering the angst of the four years she had waited for Nick to come home from the war, praying each day he would be returning under his own power. Her vanity needed the last word. "Miss Convers is proof you did no such thing!"
For an instant Elizabeth's ill temper was subdued by Nick's tight grip on her and by the knowledge he betrayed of his pain and of her plans, until a clap of thunder startled them both.
"Don't do it, Lizzie. Don't sell."
"Look at this place," she answered Nick wretchedly. "The house is empty and useless. What am I to do with a ranch, Nick? I could never work this land myself."
"You don't have to."
Elizabeth threw up her hands in a wave of hopelessness. "I suppose I should just stay here and wait for a man as noble as Bonnie Prince Charlie to sail across the sea and save me? Better still, Edward Ferrars may come riding in with a proposal at any moment; or perhaps I should stay the course and hope for my Mr. Knightly?"
Nick was mindful of her sarcasm, and he tried to recall all the champions from the books Elizabeth had ever read to him aloud on Poppy Hill. "Lizzie," he sighed, "it could be that a boy like Romeo has been here all along."
"I certainly hope not," she frowned girlishly on hearing Nick's nominated context, "that didn't work out well for Juliet at all."
Again, there was a flash of light, a crack of thunder, and large raindrops pelted down from the sky. Nick shimmied out of his coat, put it on Elizabeth and whisked the hat from his head, landing it atop her own. Although she could barely see beneath a hat two sizes too large, Elizabeth stumbled alongside the young man as he led her running toward the porch of the ranch house. Nick fumbled for the keys in his vest pocket and swiftly opened the door to the house, telling Elizabeth to go inside and wait.
Elizabeth slipped off her muddied shoes, and went to the window of the parlor to watch as Nick led Coco to the security of the barn. Before long he was running toward the house, splashing water and mud, and Elizabeth whirled about in her stocking feet, sliding across the polished floor toward a closet where she recalled leaving old blankets and towels. She gathered them in her arms and when she turned around she met toe to toe with Nick, water from his soaked hair and drenched top clothing dripping onto the wood floor.
"You look as though you've nearly drowned," she remarked at his appearance, as Nick shivered. "You'll be sick for a week if you don't take off that wet shirt and vest, and your boots as well. I will try to dry them," she said, and when Nick had done as she instructed Elizabeth handed him a towel and shook out a blanket, laying it across his shoulders. She hurriedly removed the sheet covering from a sofa to have a place to sit.
"No, no," Nick refused to soak a good piece of furniture, "the floor will do."
Elizabeth piled the rest of the blankets onto the floor and pointed for Nick to sit down. He did, and dried his hair with the towel, and then tamed it back in place with his fingers. He exhaled from the cold and the exertion of running so quickly, and grinned a little to himself for having so sheepishly followed Elizabeth's orders.
"Better now?"
"Yeah," he said, rubbing at his eyes.
Nick watched as Elizabeth dried the floor, and then took his clothes to a sink and wrung them out the best she could. She came back to the parlor, trying to shake the wrinkles out of Nick's shirt before she hung it on the bannister of the staircase to dry.
"Forgive me," Elizabeth felt contrite for her outburst; "I never meant to be angry, and I feel foolish. I don't know what's wrong with me as of late."
Nick gave a nod of acceptance to the apology, although not as enthusiastically as Elizabeth would have hoped. "We're here for the duration until the rain lets up," he told her.
"Then we'll make the best of it."
Nick listened to the pelting of raindrops on the windows; the sound brought back memories and served to soothe his temper. "This reminds me of being camped along the Rappahannock in Fredericksburg, waiting out a rainstorm in the mess tent. There was nothing much to do, not much to eat; but the currier brought the post around, and handed me three letters from you. I guess the mail had finally caught up with us," he chortled at the recollection.
Another deafening crack of thunder above the house made Elizabeth jump, and her fists clenched the lapel of Nick's coat, which she still wore.
"That was right above our heads. Come here," Nick motioned to her, and Elizabeth scooted more blankets across the floor, to settle beside Nick.
He yanked a blanket from the pile and wrapped it around Elizabeth, and when she rested her shoulder against his own, Nick's arm enveloped her snugly. The kindly and tentative embrace was a welcome reassurance to them both; an apology to quell their nerves from the storm, and calm them from the price of such an outburst of resentment, which neither had ever wanted to confess they had harbored.
Nick's cheek came to rest near Elizabeth's ear, and he could smell the scent of lavender, and the peacefulness of sun and earth in her wavy auburn hair. Her locks had been secured with pins and a comb, with the exception of wayward, loose wisps having come undone by the wind, wisps that tickled at Nick's nose.
He closed his eyes, unable to fight the desire to place a kiss near her ear. When he did Elizabeth tried to smile. She took delight in Nick's offering of peace between them, yet she was wary of thinking there may be any more to the gesture than just an apology between friends.
"Tell me more, Nick, about the letters."
"Those letters were a comfort to me," he continued. "A letter would always arrive when I was missing this place the most. Of course I took some ribbing from the men, but most of the boys wanted to know what was written in them." He admitted to only reading certain parts aloud to satisfy the curiosity of the soldiers, but the rest of the missive was only for himself; read when he had a few moments alone.
Nick recalled the scent of the paper, just like the fragrance of Elizabeth's hair, and he had always kept a letter beneath the bedroll he had used as a pillow; the scent helping him to dream happily of her face, her smile, and her figure. It was a fantasy, a glimpse of hopefulness intertwined with the sight of the ugliness of a day's gunfire and shelling, and the horror of dead soldiers laid out on a battlefield, men who would never again know the enticing perfume of their wife or sweetheart.
As the aroma of the paper faded, a new letter would find Nick in the field and he would secure the older letter in a saddlebag, and the bundle grew. Elizabeth had written to Nick every week. He was thankful to know that he hadn't been forgotten, no matter where the army had chosen to relocate the regiment.
"I lived for those letters," he admitted aloud. He had dearly loved Elizabeth for writing; and his thoughts now came to rest only on the woman nestled within the bend of his arm.
"Your letters were few and far between," Elizabeth serenely chided, and her hand reached up to touch Nick's stubbly cheek.
"I had no writing paper," he answered, nestling into her palm. "We only had what we could carry. I didn't even get a foot locker until I made Lieutenant."
"You sent a wire once. A currier brought it out to the ranch and had me sign for it; I could barely hold the pencil, and I had to run into the house and make my mother open the seal, my hands shook so much. She was very good, only reading the first line 'Dear Elizabeth, I am safe and on leave', before folding it and handing it back.
I ran as fast as I could to your house to tell your parents the news, and I carried that telegram everywhere, worrying it between my fingers in the weeks when no one had heard a word from you or the location of the regiment. My father would read the newspaper and tell us of the campaigns, but I always knew when he had come across bad news of your regiment. He would fold the newspaper, tuck it in his coat pocket, and take it out of the house. I know he burned them in the forge in the smithy."
"Connell never could stand to see you unhappy," Nick chuckled.
"No," Elizabeth grinned. "The man was strong as a henge stone, until my mother or I sniffled."
"Every so often I'd get a letter from my father, mostly telling me to write to mother; and to you. I'm glad I sent the telegram."
"I carried that telegram with me until the words were barely legible. 'Remember me; Nick'."
Nick felt peculiar, yet not a terrible feeling at all for the recollection of such forlorn memories. His gut was painfully hollow as if hungry, but it wasn't rumbling; and the palms of his hands prickled so that he was tempted to rub them together. As a man, he was wholly in tune with the cause of such sensations.
"Did you know that there is hardly ever a thunderstorm in San Francisco? I have not heard one in over two years," Elizabeth altered the conversation.
"No," Nick's voice cracked, "I didn't know."
"Nick?"
"What," he whispered, aching to kiss Elizabeth.
"The rain has stopped."
Nick's wits had abruptly been relieved of all reason; his senses wretched at being brought up short. Elizabeth got up from the floor and touched Nick's shirt and undershirt hanging on the banister of the staircase.
"It'll have to do until you're home. The vest is going to take more time to dry in front of a good fire."
"I'll get Coco, and you lock the door."
Nick stood, dressed hastily in the chilly clothing, and handed the keys to Elizabeth. She did as she was told, and waited on the plank porch. Nick was riding behind his saddle on Coco when he emerged from the barn, and he reined the horse over to where Elizabeth stood.
"Climb on," he instructed, and giving Elizabeth no alternative than to obey, took her arm and easily hoisted her petite body up into the saddle. Her left hand held tight the saddle horn, her right clutched the arm that Nick had enclosed around her, the palm of his hand steadily positioned against Elizabeth's midsection for balance.
"Easy now," he cued the animal while chuckling to himself at Elizabeth's distress of being on a horse; and the pair headed back to the Barkley Ranch.
There was a hint of awkwardness when Nick slid off the back of the horse, then lowered Elizabeth to the ground. The two took a moment to look prudently at one another for having been alone together; though the looks from the family, particularly Victoria and Jarrod as the pair walked through the door were more disconcerting to Elizabeth and Nick than to anyone else.
"I set the wellington in the oven about an hour ago, Miss Elizabeth," Silas dutifully reported.
"Very good," Elizabeth blushed, still wearing Nick's overcoat; she slipped it off to hand to Silas, and she made haste toward the staircase. "I'll go and clean up now."
"The kettle's boiling for Mr. Nick, but there is enough water for you too. Would you like me to run you a bath, Miss?"
Elizabeth was ever so grateful to Silas for the offer. "I would. Thank you," she replied, all the while her muddied feet tripping hurriedly up the stairs.
Jarrod stepped toward Nick, reaching out a hand and tugging on the cloth of Nick's damp and dirty shirt. "Better get that off," he smirked at his brother's discomfort, then whispered on the sly, "by the way, you skipped a button."
Nick colored, not so much from shame, but for lacking the gift of a clever reply. He turned on the heels of his boots and strode up the stairs for his room.
Nick lingered in his room after having bathed and changed his clothes for supper. Silas had lit a fire in the hearth and Nick took up a chair, his legs sprawled out on the wool carpet, and clean, polished black boots crossed before him; so occupied in his thoughts that he was barely conscious of the crackling logs of the fire.
The room was large and furnished stylishly for a man's taste; it was the master bedchamber of the house. The walls were paneled in finely finished mahogany, with shuttered bookcases to the left of an oversized bed and grand wooden headboard, a large draped window to the right, and another door leading to a private dressing chamber. A smaller sitting parlor, with a desk and two windows made up the entry, the two spaces separated by a magnificent mahogany arch; with weighty jacquard drapery hung at either end to keep out a draft and secure further privacy for the occupants, should it be necessary.
It had been the chamber Tom and Victoria had shared in marriage. A room large enough to accommodate not only the pair, but the infants Victoria had borne and nursed, until the children were old enough to occupy their own rooms. Victoria had given the room to Nick soon after Tom's death. Nick, at well over six feet tall, had outgrown his smaller room and bed. Victoria thought it only right that he should have the room, and that she should take the smaller chamber.
Nick was heir to the ranch and the lands, as his mother had once said, by his own choice and by his rule. Jarrod had no designs on the house, knowing he would always split his time between Stockton and San Francisco. He hoped to one day build a comfortable house near the lake on the far side of the ranch lands, and would eventually purchase a house in the city. Eugene's interest was in medicine, particularly advances in animal husbandry and veterinary science. He knew he was not destined to be a rancher or a ranch heir. Audra was one day to be the mistress of a husband's home, wherever that was to be was yet undetermined. She didn't seem to have much interest in the eligible men of Stockton, other than as partners to fill her dance card. It was intended that if Heath wished it, he would be given land for a house when the time came for him to settle down.
The grand white ranch house was in Nick's charge. When fortune had allowed, Tom had built the house in the classical revival style to please his wife. It's size and grace was an oddity for the valley and for California, not a typical ranch house by any means, which made it somewhat of a landmark and one of the first things to be notice by newcomers.
Nick cared for most every detail, seeing to any repairs and upkeep, but he let his mother decide when to redecorate the furnishings and trappings. It was Nick's practice to walk through the house before retiring when everyone else in the family had gone to bed for the night; as it had been Tom's. Each night, Nick bolted the doors and bid Silas goodnight as they both extinguished the lights, Nick on the upstairs floors, Silas on the downstairs floors.
On the bookshelf in Nick's bedchamber was a box the height of a standard book, but the width of five. Nick got up from the chair, walked to the shelf and took the box in his hands. He placed it on the highboy and opened it; stopping to inspect the medals and badges that had once been pinned on his dress uniform and a tintype image of him taken in the field when he made lieutenant; and then he leafed through some old letters that were in the box as well. Some were rather tattered, and a couple wrinkled and bent from once having been read in the rain, but nonetheless, every letter that Elizabeth had ever written to Nick had been placed within that box. He pulled one out to read, and sat back down on the chair.
October 31st, 1864
Dearest Nicholas,
Our neighbor Nevada is no longer a territory but today has become a State! The Stockton Eagle reports that President Lincoln has signed the charter, and it is said that the Union is in need of the State for important votes, not to mention its silver and gold. Your father believes it a good thing, for now California lands will not be isolated in the west.
I only wish there was more news to tell you of home. I cannot know how much pleasure it affords you to receive these letters, but at times I think I write them for my own comfort as well. You are in my thoughts, and so therefore you can expect to receive the letters as long as you remain away from home.
The flowers on Poppy Hill are gone for the year; it is not the same place without you. You've been away for such a long time. Will I recognize you when you come home? I suspect when you return our childhood days will be gone, sad to say, but to me they will be remembered as days of felicity.
How happy the thought that years may increase the affection and esteem we have for one another. May it ever be so, and may I ever be a person worthy of your warmest affections.
Is mise le grá, mo laddie saighdiúir, Elizabeth
Each letter Elizabeth had written to Nick contained the same closing. He hadn't known what it meant, nor could he pronounce it, and he had never had the nerve to ask Jock MacLean, his commanding officer, if he was able to read the words; but Nick came to believe the phrase a cipher of hope.
A rap on the chamber door caused Nick to jump to his feet, and before acknowledging the caller, he put the letter back in the box and put the box in its place on the shelf.
"Come in," he breathed out, steadying his wits.
Heath opened the door and peered inside the room. "You ready for supper?"
"Yeah," Nick replied, remembering what Elizabeth had prepared.
"I just gotta know what a wellington is; the smell of it cooking is making my stomach growl and my mouth water."
Nick sat once more in the chair and motioned to Heath to take the other. "Did you ever have a sweetheart, Heath?" he asked, out of the blue, "I mean, that last year when you enlisted. Someone who wrote to you."
"I can't say that I did. I would have liked to have had a sweetheart, but while mustered I managed to meet a few girls here and there who gave me a kiss or two and some comfort."
Nick laughed at his brother's frankness.
"You, Nick?"
"A sweetheart, I believe," Nick admitted quite shyly for his typical character. "At least most folks thought so, but now that I look back on it, I was too young and stupid to see it plainly for myself. I should have come right out and asked the girl."
"Maybe it's not too late, Nick."
"Maybe; do you know anyone who reads Scottish, I mean Gaelic?"
"Doesn't Elizabeth?"
"Best it's someone other than, Elizabeth."
Heath pondered a moment before saying, "Can't say that I do."
Elizabeth had been thankful for the warm bath; the water scented with the lavender oil she had brought. She washed her hair and fingered through the tresses a little oil before washing it again. The oil made her hair soft and shiny, and made the tangles manageable. Silas had lit a fire in the hearth of the guestroom, and Elizabeth sat near the blaze, running her fingers through her damp hair to dry it enough for braiding. She was nimble at braiding her hair even without being in front of a vanity mirror, and when she came to the end of the one long braid, she fastened the bottom with a green and blue plaid ribbon.
Elizabeth put on a blue frock adorned with a peplum bustle, and blue satin slippers. Her cheeks were pink from her earlier walk and the chilly ride back, and she gazed at her complexion, having gone to the mirror; her fingers playing with the end of her braid while she thought on the day. She wished she had spent more time with Nick; listening to him talk of the past; his deep voice lulling her mind into fanciful thoughts of what might have come to pass between them, had the rain not stopped.
Audra's voice from outside the bedchamber called to her friend, until Elizabeth opened the door.
"What do you think?" Audra pressed for Elizabeth's opinion.
"The gown is lovely, and you are very beautiful in it," Elizabeth smiled.
"Now all I need is an occasion to wear it! Come on, Lizzie, we'll be late for supper."
The beef wellington was hardly a disappointment to Heath or anyone else that night, and Silas had done Elizabeth proud and cooked it just long enough to keep the meat pink and tender on the inside. The dough was perfectly crisp and golden brown, and it looked beautiful on the plate when sliced.
Victoria managed to carry the conversation at the table. "I thought tomorrow, girls, we would visit Jamie Drumm and his wife. Their baby girl was born just last week."
"Say, Nick," Heath got his brother's attention while the others discussed a new baby born in the valley. "Jamie Drumm."
Nick grinned at Heath's subtle hint. Of course; Jamie Drumm would know how to read the words in Gaelic.
"I can drive you," Nick offered the ladies.
"We'll be gone most the day, Nick, and I have to go to Stockton first. We can go, just us three women," his mother squelched the plan.
"Besides, Nick, I need you to come by the office late afternoon to sign those mining leases," Jarrod instructed.
"We can fix a spice cake first thing in the morning to take to the parents," Elizabeth delighted. "Would you like to help me, Audra?"
Audra was elated at being asked. "You will show me how, won't you?"
"All these accomplished women, boys," Jarrod declared with a wink. "They can cook, bake, sew, play the piano, visit babies, and drive themselves to town. One day they'll get the right to vote, and then there will be no stopping them."
"We own property, some of us hold jobs, and we manage ranches, farms, homes and families," Victoria said with authority. "I think we deserve the right to cast a vote."
"Well," Nick responded, "With all this liberation catching on like wildfire, I think it time Elizabeth learn to drive a buggy. That's the kind of independence which will keep her out of the rain."
"Nick, honey," Victoria good-humoredly chided her son.
"Victoria," Elizabeth interrupted, "he's right; if you are willing to teach me, Nick, then I will be happy to learn."
Eugene was a bit offended that Nick should chide Elizabeth, and perhaps force her to do something she didn't wish to do. "Why not teach her to shoot a gun, too?" he grumbled sarcastically.
"That's not a bad idea," Nick imitated his little brother's scorn.
Elizabeth colored at the notion. "Boys, one thing at a time, please. I've learned a good many things to date, but buggy driving and gun slinging may take a while."
Victoria laughed at the thought; pleased by Elizabeth's outspokenness in matching wits with Nick all the while demonstrating a duty to gratify the young man's wishes by a woman's grace. Victoria had never known another to manage Nick in so effortless a manner. Victoria and Tom had always thought their son and Connell's daughter would make a strong couple in a marriage; a union of disposition between an indomitable young man who possessed a tender heart and a young woman who had a talent for cultivating sense in others with her wit and serenity.
"Well, Gene and I think you're very accomplish," Heath admitted.
Gene was ready to sing Elizabeth's praises. "More than you know, Heath. Elizabeth speaks three languages, she sings, plays the piano and the harp, and is quite a botanist. She's been assisting Professor Hans Behr, categorizing plant species surrounding the bay."
Jarrod was enthralled, "Professor Behr, really?"
"Yes, though I am no botanist," Elizabeth confirmed. "The landscape outside the city is a welcome distraction from cobblestones, gutters and mechanical trolleys."
"I'd say you truly are an accomplished woman, Lizzie," Jarrod beamed.
"Hardly," she replied as she glanced at Nick, "It's just that I missed sitting among the wildflowers on Poppy Hill, and so when I met the man at a supper party, I volunteered."
Nick asked, "How old is this man?"
Elizabeth shrugged, "Nearly seventy, I believe."
"Hmm," Nick feigned actual interest in the answer.
"Women now are much different than in my mother's day," Heath affirmed.
Elizabeth turned toward Heath to confess her admiration for his mother, while shielding Victoria's feelings; for Heath had been born from a brief liaison between Tom Barkley and a woman named Leah Thompson twenty-five years ago, when Tom had been staying in the small mining town of Strawberry.
"Your mother raised a boy to be a fine man," Elizabeth declared. "I'm convinced that's not easy to accomplish."
Nick sat comfortably back in his chair, dropping his napkin onto the table. He couldn't take his eyes from Elizabeth, content to watch as she quietly finished her supper. He had always thought her a beautiful girl; refined in manners yet unpretentious in her ability to please; and he had always been aware of her knowledge and accomplishments. Most of all Elizabeth was loving; concerned for the feelings of others, not simply wishing to gratify her own needs, as had been Hester's failing, and nearly every other woman he had ever known. In Nick's eyes, if Elizabeth possessed a flaw at all, it could be said it was in her failure to see her own worth.
While Nick was occupied, Victoria studied her second son. He didn't often remain still or quiet for any length of time, or outwardly display a fixation for another person, in the manner that his expressions now betrayed.
"How's the new crop in the west field, Nick?" Jarrod changed the direction of conversation. "Are there any more brown spots on the spring barley?"
"A few; whatever it is, it's spreading, slowly."
"What does it look like?" Elizabeth inquired.
Nick described the brownish-black marks as streaks on the tender shafts of the barley near a forming head, and said that it was localized in a small area of the field, as of that morning.
"It seems like some sort of blight."
He shrugged somewhat, "The valley's not prone to blight."
"You said yourself, this has been an uncommonly rainy year. Perhaps it came in the seed, and is emergent and spreading because of the odd spring rains this season. Blight is often spread by rain, driven by strong winds. If that is the case it should be managed by pouring boiling water onto the affected plants to kill the disease, and the plants should be removed, and soon, before there is any further spread. It would be possible to fashion some caldrons of water onto fire pits by the field, and the boiling water administered by hand, in buckets."
Eugene and Audra looked at Nick; both jubilant on hearing Elizabeth's solution to the problem.
"Mother," Nick sighed in wonder. "Drive by the east field on your way to Stockton tomorrow so Elizabeth can have a look. I'll ride along with you. Will you do me the favor, Lizzie?"
Elizabeth smiled, hoping her assistance would be of use. "Of course I will."
It was early dawn when Elizabeth got Audra out of bed to make the spice cake for Jamie Drumm's family. Audra was too drowsy to be of much help, and escaped from the kitchen to slip back into bed as Nick walked in to have a closer look at what made the house smell so divine.
Elizabeth had pulled two large cakes from the oven and set them out to cool. Nick stood behind her, his hands on her shoulders as they both surveyed her handiwork.
"Smells like Christmas morning," Nick breathed in the aroma, his mood lively after a good night's sleep. "Are you going to take both of those with you? I don't think that new baby will eat a crumb of that cake."
Elizabeth laughed; she had a contagious low sort of chortle for her normal voice that made her shoulders spring up and down and the locks of her hair bounce, particularly when she found humor in someone's conversation. Nick had often made her laugh, sometimes when he hadn't tried; and her laughter was a remedy to improve even his demeanor.
"Come on," Nick snorted. "Just let me taste a piece, just a sample."
"It's for the baby's parents," she swatted his hand away from the cake; still laughing. "Everyone brings gifts for a new baby; never for the parents."
"So you have to bring a baby into the world to get a piece of cake? I just want a small piece; crumbs. Silas, don't you think a hardworking rancher deserves a few crumbs?"
"I do, Mr. Nick," Silas laughed; busy brewing coffee and warming ham on the wood stove at the other end of the kitchen.
Elizabeth turned around and smiled favorably up at Nick. "The other cake you may have with your breakfast."
"I'll get the coffee cups and we'll eat that cake right here and now." Before Nick spun around, he kissed Elizabeth hastily on the cheek, and then made for the dining room to fetch the cups. "Yes, indeed," he called out, "it's turning into a fine morning."
Half an hour hence, Nick bounded out of the kitchen for the front door of the house, affixing his work gloves onto his hands as he walked; meeting his mother by the bottom of the grand staircase.
"Aren't you having breakfast this morning, Nicholas?"
"I've had ham and eggs, two cups of coffee, and just about half of an entire spice cake," he quickly kissed his mother on the cheek as he had kissed Elizabeth, "oh, and potatoes. I forgot about the potatoes. I couldn't eat another bite. I'll be in the barn. Let me know when you're ready to leave for town, huh?"
Elizabeth bent down and plucked a tainted barley plant up by the roots. Nick stood over her, along with five field hands awaiting a decision as to how they were to spend their work day.
"It certainly looks like blight, Nick. Luckily it hasn't spread to very many plants. I would suggest you boil the water as soon as possible, dowse the infected plants, and then pull them out and dispose of them in a tidy pile away from any other crops. Have the men try not to shake the plants as they pull."
Nick turned to the field wrangler. "Do as the lady says," he made his instruction clear. He lifted Elizabeth back into the surrey which Victoria had chosen as the vehicle to drive the ladies to town, and his broad, dimpled smile showed his appreciation.
"Let me know how it all comes out," Elizabeth said. "If it rains again this afternoon, we'll have to take another look tomorrow and see if the spread has stopped."
"Oh, it'll rain again. I can feel it in the air. Mother, you be sure to head home about two o'clock, before the roads are muddy. I don't want to have to come looking for the three of you."
Victoria nodded, and the surrey and team of two black geldings made its way down the ranch road toward Stockton. The ladies chatted and gossiped, and Victoria told Elizabeth about Jamie Drumm. He had come to the valley a little more than two years ago, an unmarried man from near Edinburgh. With what money he had, he managed to purchase forty acres of good bottomland, and was a vegetable and fruit farmer supplying the restaurants in Stockton.
He had met a young woman through friends in Sacramento, and the two had been a good match. Her situation was similar to Elizabeth for she had been born in the Highlands, the daughter of immigrant parents. The couple had a small wedding before leaving her kin and returning to Jamie's farm. It was only two months after their wedding that Morna Drumm told her husband she was with child, and she had safely delivered a daughter last Monday.
The ladies shopped at the mercantile in Stockton for nearly an hour, and Victoria visited the seamstress, having taken a couple of gowns into the shop the week before for mending and alteration. Elizabeth was introduced to a few of the townspeople and merchants that she had not known, and was greeted warmly by those she had.
While Victoria paid the seamstress Mrs. Williamson for the alterations, Audra and Elizabeth admired some of the dresses, which had already been sewn; some for everyday wear and some for special occasions. Elizabeth was particularly taken with a rose-colored faille frock with shortened sleeves for summer, not too plain, yet not excessively adorned, and she thought it perhaps a good gesture to give patronage to the Stockton merchants.
"Is this pretty frock spoken for?"
"Why, no Miss, I only finished it this morning," it was clear the seamstress was flattered by Elizabeth's attention.
"Can you fit it for me by tomorrow?"
"I can have it ready by this afternoon!"
Elizabeth thanked the woman. "You have always made such beautiful things, Mrs. Williamson."
"Oh my dear, I'm honored by your notice. With all the beautiful dresses they have in San Francisco, I can hardly believe that you would come to like my handiwork."
"You can believe it, ma'am," Elizabeth smiled, and paid the woman for the garment, with a generous tip for the alterations once the seamstress had taken Elizabeth's proper measurements.
As a woman who set a standard for decorum, Victoria was pleased by Elizabeth's acknowledgement of a country merchant; but Elizabeth had always been a generous girl, and that good trait had evidently been carried over into womanhood. For years the economy of Stockton had been chiefly supported by the Barkley Ranch and the other large ranchers in the area, including Elizabeth's family; if the Barkley's prospered, Stockton prospered.
"Please have the dress delivered to my son Jarrod's office," Victoria requested. "He can bring it out to the ranch tonight."
The ladies made a brief call to Doctor Thomas Merar's house, and the good man and his wife Iva were elated to see Elizabeth once again. On the street on their way to the Stockton Club for luncheon they met with Sheriff Fred Madden. He was happy to see Elizabeth, and told her how much her friends had missed her, and her family.
Jarrod joined the party for luncheon, having procured a table for them all, since it was the busy hour. A fine young gentleman unexpectedly approached the table before they had been served their meal.
"Good day, Miss MacCanish," he tipped his chin in a greeting.
Elizabeth was dumbfounded. "Mr. Haight!" she expressed her wonder at his being in Stockton. Elizabeth, remembering her manners, presented her friends to young Harry Haight.
"Allow me to introduce my father, Mr. Henry Haight. Father, this is Miss Elizabeth MacCanish."
"A great pleasure," the elder man greeted them all with a polite bow to the ladies, and an extended hand to a standing Jarrod. Mr. Henry Haight was a smart looking fellow, handsomely dressed, with graying, combed hair, and a neatly trimmed moustache and beard. His suit was of the finest material, and he wore a gentleman's ascot instead of a western bow tie.
"We are in Stockton on business," Harry Haight explained. "In fact, my father was hoping to make your acquaintance Miss MacCanish, since I knew you were in the valley."
"Then our meeting was well timed," Elizabeth replied, feeling a touch suspicious.
"My son has told me much of you, and of your connection, Miss MacCanish. It is a delight to finally meet you, my dear."
Elizabeth blushed, for she hadn't realized that Harry Haight knew a great deal about her, let alone that she and the boy had formed any sort of formal association.
"Did you enjoy Mr. Gough's party last Saturday?" Elizabeth tried to find a benign subject of conversation.
Indeed, Harry Haight was a steadfast young gent, and he answered with a swagger, "It was pleasant enough, though it was nothing in your absence. I hope one day soon there will be another occasion to which I may escort you, Elizabeth."
"We won't keep you from your luncheon," Mr. Haight senior gave order to his son. Harry nodded to the party, and to Elizabeth he bowed and lingered a besotted smile; and the gentlemen quit the dining room for the saloon.
Audra was beside herself with curiosity. "You're acquainted with that handsome young man, Lizzie? He's nothing like any man in Stockton."
No, he was not like any particular man in Stockton, Elizabeth thought. "We are barely acquainted," Elizabeth blushed, and bowed her head to conceal her changing humor.
"Barely? His father mentioned your connection; and he called you by name!"
Though Elizabeth meant nothing hurtful, her frustration with Audra's pointed questions gave her voice a tone of reproach, "A connection is a far cry from a commitment."
"Audra," Jarrod was first to warn his sister of any further interference. It was obvious that Elizabeth was in no humor to discuss the meeting in greater detail. "I have to get back to the office within the hour, so let's just eat our lunch."
Audra was advised again by her mother's whisper not to pry into Elizabeth's concerns of young Mr. Haight, as Jarrod escorted Elizabeth to the surrey. Audra was an impulsive girl and at eighteen still young enough to be somewhat naive when it came to young men, but she knew when to obey her mother, and her eldest brother on the occasion that he should give reprimand. With Nick, Audra was at liberty to be somewhat imprudent, for her brother by and large teased her more than scolded. There had been an occasion or two when she had irritated Nick enough for him to caution her in such a way that caused her hurt and made her angry, even though she usually knew she had been in the wrong.
Nick had the disposition of his father; willing to let a few things slide until he was convinced that trouble was certain if he did not take some sort of action. When it came to reining in Audra, Nick always acted with a fair amount of reluctance, and more than not regretted losing his temper once he had done so. Audra could only recall one instance when she had made Nick furious by a clandestine meeting after dark with a boy that he'd been tempted to strike his sister when she defiantly declared she was old enough to make her own decisions and that it was none of Nick's business.
With Tom gone, Jarrod and Nick were responsible for the family's safekeeping; and Victoria had objected to the boy, and to Audra seeing him alone. Nick had stopped just short of swatting her like a father would punish a spoiled child when she was found outside the house at midnight, instead opting to warn her so loudly with his baritone voice that the walls rattled. Somehow, he had thought, while afterward stewing about the incident, if Audra had been his own daughter and he had objected to the boy, he would have opted for a more persuadable whack.
With Gene, and now with Heath, Nick was different. He rarely apologized for reprimanding either of them if he thought it was just; and as Jarrod was also quick to do, when he and Nick disagreed. It was not unheard of for Nick and Jarrod to throw a punch at one another when frustration reared its head, although they had never done so in front of their parents, yet such an occurrence had generally been reported to either Victoria or Tom by a younger sibling eager to squeal.
Before Elizabeth was seated in the surrey she was overtaken on the boardwalk by Flora Benson. Flora was the daughter of an old friend of Connell MacCanish, although Flora was nearer to Audra's age than to Elizabeth. Flora fancied herself a Stockton socialite, and though engaging in her manners toward most people she was apt to be a thorn in Audra's side.
Flora could not be described as a natural beauty. She was short, a bit on the plump side and her complexion a tad ruddy for such a young woman of station; and she was more than willing to point out a Barkley scandal to the other gossiping girls in town, no doubt in the hopes of making Audra, a more natural beauty, seem less desirable. Audra had often told Elizabeth of the things Flora Benson had said, and Audra had thought Flora's behavior worse now that Heath had come to the valley, and he had shown no noticeable inclination for Flora's copious flirting.
"You must come to the Spring Cotillion this Saturday night, Elizabeth!"
Audra chimed in, not wanting to feel left out, "Oh, is that the date?"
"Yes, it has just been fixed," Flora replied to Audra, glibly, "although somewhat last minute. I only hope Mrs. Williamson can finish my new ball gown in time."
"I'm sure Audra will be at the Cotillion," Elizabeth at times had a touch of the devil in her, "Eugene and Heath, too. There will be lots of lovely young ladies for the men to dance with, don't you agree Audra?"
"Definitely," Audra was impish enough to play along.
Flora's enthusiasm soured somewhat; as it was foreseen that she was confident Heath would be her escort that night, and she wanted his attentions all to herself.
Victoria was amused during the carriage ride to the Drumm farm, as Elizabeth and Audra laughed for teasing poor Flora. Victoria might have pointed out their delight as unkind and unladylike, if she hadn't known so well how Flora Benson often mistreated Audra.
Audra shuttered, "It makes me uneasy to even meet that girl on the street. You never know what she'll say, but you always know it won't be much of a compliment."
"I know," Elizabeth admitted, thinking of Hester Convers in kind. "There is at least one woman in every circle to sour the best occasion."
Morna Drumm was outside the house waiting on the Barkley ladies when the surrey pulled onto the drive. She had been fortunate to have had an easier labor than most first time mothers, and she insisted on leaving her bed a few days after the delivery. She was in intrigue to meet Elizabeth MacCanish, someone in the neighborhood who might be thought of as a sort of kin. Elizabeth was introduced to Jamie Drumm, and he in turn presented his wife.
"Na 'm, Muirne," Elizabeth took the young mother by the hands and spoke her Gaelic name in a greeting.
The young woman's smile was one of gratitude, "I am so happy to meet you, dear Ealasaid." The two young women embraced as if they had been family.
Audra brought the spice cake and several wrapped gifts for the baby into the house, and Morna had laid out cream tea and dried fruit. The ladies sat in the parlor, waiting for Jamie to bring the baby to her mother. Elizabeth had to admire the golden raisins on a plate beside dried pears and apricots.
"Those are beautiful, and delicious. They would have made a good addition to the spice cake."
Morna arose from her chair and returned from the kitchen with a quart of the raisins, handing them to Elizabeth. "My husband grows and dries them," she said. "They are a gift for you."
Elizabeth thanked her most generously, but set the jar down on the table when Jamie Drumm entered the room carrying his infant daughter in his arms. Victoria and Audra admired the baby and her mother was delighted by the kind attention. Jamie looked to his wife and she nodded and smiled toward Elizabeth.
"Would ye like tae hold our daughter, Mairi?" he asked.
Elizabeth eagerly nodded, and she sat securely on the divan and Jamie placed the sleeping babe in her arms. "She's beautiful," Elizabeth beamed with wonder. "Such a tiny gift from God."
"You look well with a baby, Ealasaid," Morna commented. "Perhaps one day Mairi and I may visit you and your newborn baby?"
Elizabeth nearly wept, saying, "That will be the joy of my life."
In the hour the ladies spent with the Drumm family it was fixed that the couple and their new baby should come to the ranch for Sunday supper, if Morna was feeling able. It was Elizabeth who suggested the time was near to make their way home. She was not keen to have Nick lecture her again for being caught in the rain.
Nick strode into Jarrod's office on schedule. He had spent the morning with the field crew tending the barley as Elizabeth had instructed, and he was sweaty, his clothes dirty, and his gloves and boots caked with dried mud. He pulled the leather gloves off to sign the mining leases Jarrod had prepared and intended to file with the county clerk before heading home. Nick was tired, irritable, and wanted nothing more than to go home, clean up, eat a good supper, and sit beside Elizabeth for the remainder of the evening.
"Having a day, Nick?" Jarrod chuckled.
"No more than usual," Nick groused. "Let's get on with it."
Jarrod handed him the pen, and pointed to the lines ready for his signature. Jarrod's secretary tapped on the office door and handed Jarrod a package. "This is for Miss MacCanish from the dressmaker," she told him, "and there is a gentleman waiting to see you in the lobby."
"My brother and I are finished with our business. Show the gentleman in."
Before Nick left, the man was shown into Jarrod's office and Nick noticed the curiosity on Jarrod's face on recognizing the visitor.
"Mr. Barkley."
"Well," Jarrod greeted the man, "Mr. Henry Haight of San Francisco; my brother, Nicholas Barkley."
Nick extended a hand to the gentleman, although the tidy and smartly dressed man was reluctant to oblige.
"I'll see you at the ranch, Jarrod," Nick spoke as he was about to leave.
"We were just on our way out, Mr. Haight, but if your business is brief, my brother and I can spare a few minutes."
Nick was intrigued by Jarrod's subtle insinuation for him to remain. "Nick, I was introduced to Mr. Haight at luncheon with mother, Audra and Elizabeth earlier today."
Henry Haight smiled. "Yes," he said. "My son tells me that you may be the man to see to inquire about the sale of the ranch land, which Miss MacCanish has inherited."
Nick blanched, and his posture stiffened, triggering Jarrod's response. "Well, as of today I am not aware that Miss MacCanish is at all interested in selling her property," he said swiftly.
"My son, by his acquaintance with the young lady, has indicated differently."
"I see," Jarrod humored the man. "Well, until Miss MacCanish informs me otherwise, I'm in no position to negotiate on her behalf."
"Very well, Mr. Barkley; I'm sorry we cannot do business, yet."
"Miss MacCanish is a family friend," Nick interrupted. "Just how acquainted is your son with the lady?"
"From what I gather, Mr. Barkley, they have met on a few occasions and he is quite taken with the girl. Now that I have made her acquaintance, I can't say that I blame him for believing she would be a suitable match and a welcome addition to our family. Albeit they have only known one another for a short time, my son believes that perhaps Miss MacCanish might favor a courtship and a proposal, particularly if he were to acquire her ranch as a token of good faith toward a future marriage."
Nick respired in incredulity, "Future marriage?"
"Yes, that is the direction an acquaintance of this sort generally takes," Mr. Haight's flippant response drew an ample grimace from Nick. "Of course, there is no such engagement as yet. I imagine, as a family friend of Miss MacCanish, you would be protective of her present condition, having lost her father."
"You imagine right; and as for the land, I can only think your son knows very little about ranching," Nick's body was rife with adrenaline, yet as a man, he tried not to show any anxiety for having learned of Elizabeth's suitor.
"Just what does your son do for a living?" Jarrod was as protective of Elizabeth, as was Nick.
"He has no need to soil his hands at present," Henry Haight was a cool and collected man, his manner shrewd, which made him seem by and large condescending.
Nick looked at his hands, wiped a palm on his shirt and frowned at Jarrod.
"Surely a man needs an occupation," Jarrod attempted to quell Nick's temper with the supposition that Elizabeth would think such a youth inadequate as a suitor. Nick shrugged curtly, being highly doubtful himself of the boy's ability to tackle a pen of a dozen sheep, let alone a full scale cattle venture. "If Miss MacCanish tells me she wants to sell, I will send you a wire. Leave your particulars with my secretary. Good day, Mr. Haight."
Nick accompanied Jarrod to the clerk's office, and the brothers made for home together. Nick barely said two words on the ride, his ill temper simmering with the news that Elizabeth perhaps had a beau. Before the Barkley brothers entered the house, Nick stopped cold, turned and poked a finger in Jarrod's chest.
"So he thinks Lizzie is suitable! Ha! That boy is no doubt a perfumed fop; and useless to boot!"
"Pretty much," Jarrod frowned.
"So this is what you were trying to tell me, Jarrod, when Elizabeth arrived; that this fool may as well buy her affection with his father's money?"
"I truly had no knowledge of this young man or his father, Nick."
"Have you met this, this dandy?"
"I met him earlier today. He approached Elizabeth wanting to introduce her to his father. He's definitely a society brat, Nick; you know the type, affluent and spoiled. I wouldn't believe he's Elizabeth's sort of man."
"Just what is Elizabeth's sort of man?" Nick revealed his angst by removing his hat and tousling his hair. "I thought I knew her, Jarrod; just maybe I don't know what she's about anymore."
"Let's go in the house and have a good supper, Nick, and calm down."
Nick looked down at his mud-caked clothes. As a rule, he would clean the sweat and dirt from his face, hair and arms in the water trough by the barn before going into the house, but there was nothing he could do about his muddied clothing out in the open.
"You go in; I'm going around back and have Silas fill up the tub on the service porch. I'm too grubby to traipse through the house looking like I've been wallowing with the pigs in a sty."
The family was already in the living room when Jarrod entered into the house. Audra and Elizabeth were playing the piano and Gene and Heath were occupied in a game of cribbage. Victoria went to greet her son.
"I'm glad you're home Jarrod. We'll be eating soon. Didn't Nick come home with you?"
Jarrod took his mother by the arm, steering her discreetly into the study, closing the door behind them. "He's bathing on the service porch; he thinks his clothes are too muddy to come through the front door."
"Since when has he ever thought that?" Victoria doubted.
"Since he heard of Elizabeth and that city boy, Harry Haight."
"Oh, Jarrod," Victoria bemoaned her alarm; concerned as her eldest son assumed she would be knowing that Nick and young Mr. Haight were nothing alike in manners and mien, and suspecting, as did Jarrod, just how Nick felt about Elizabeth. "How did Nick meet that young man?"
"He didn't," Jarrod sighed, "his father came to see me at the office when Nick was in signing those claim leases. Mr. Haight said Elizabeth had mentioned selling the ranch to Harry, and that he was interested in buying."
"So that is what they are doing in Stockton."
"Apparently young Mr. Haight is looking to Elizabeth as a prospective bride, and the elder gentleman wants to purchase the land as an incentive for Elizabeth to accept."
"He said all this; and in front of Nick?"
Jarrod folded his arms across his chest, nodded and grimaced, "Do you think Elizabeth knows anything about this plan?"
"I don't know, Jarrod. She hasn't said anything to me, though she says she's not engaged to be married. She was telling me of some lace that Rose had brought from Scotland and kept for Elizabeth's wedding trousseau, and so I asked her if she was engaged, which she wholeheartedly denied."
"Well, I told Mr. Haight that Elizabeth hasn't decided to sell. Perhaps now those two will go back to San Francisco."
"Do you really believe that, Jarrod?"
"No mother, I don't believe that they'll leave yet; it was more wishful thinking than certainty."
As Jarrod and Victoria rejoined the rest of the family, Silas was stealing up the staircase to fetch some clean clothes and boots for Nick. Elizabeth spied him and she got up from the piano to ask of Silas, "Would you like me to go and check on the ham for supper?"
"No Miss!" Silas was distressed at the notion of Miss Elizabeth finding Mr. Nick in the altogether. "I've got everything prepared for tonight. You just go on playing that pretty piano music. I really like listening to you and Miss Audra play while I work."
"All right, Silas," Elizabeth's words comforted the good fellow. "Will Nick be home for supper?"
"Oh yes, Miss. Mr. Nick will be along any time now," he took in a breath of relief; then hurried about his original task.
"Lizzie," Jarrod ran interference by handing her the package, "This was delivered for you."
While Elizabeth and Audra busily unwrapped and admired the rose-colored frock, Silas managed to return undetected to the service porch with Nick's clothes; and Nick dressed with haste and some assistance from the kindly houseman.
"You'd best be getting into the living room, Mr. Nick. Miss Elizabeth was asking after you."
"She was?"
"Yes, sir, I had to stop her from coming back here to check on the ham while you were still in the tub; and then she asked me if you were coming home for supper."
"Thanks kindly, Silas," Nick's face colored. "I'll go see her right now."
When Nick strode into the living room, Elizabeth stopped playing the piano, and met him by the hearth to admire the cut of his figure. "You look handsome tonight, Mr. Barkley," she told him with a genuine grin of approval. "Did everything work out well in the barley field today?"
"Fine," Nick nodded, "just fine."
"Nick!" Audra advanced on her brother to enlighten him of what the rest of the family had already heard. "The Spring Cotillion is this Saturday night! Heath and Eugene have already said they'll be going, and Jarrod, and of course, Elizabeth!"
Audra whirled about chattering on to her mother and brothers about the event, and Nick turned to Elizabeth to ask, "Who will you go with?"
She cocked her head to the side to ponder; flirtatious in the merry spirit of the occasion, "I could be tempted to go with you; that is if you are of a mind to ask."
"It just so happens I am," Nick's earlier melancholy dwindling as he spoke, and his countenance cheered to a smile by the knowledge that Elizabeth hadn't received an offer from another man, in particular young Mr. Haight.
"I accept your invitation."
"Will you have late supper with me at the Alhambra Club afterward; just the two of us?"
Elizabeth approved of Nick's attention to detail as the Alhambra Club was the finest eatery Stockton had to offer, and with a flirtatious curtsy to match the best ever performed by Miss Hester Convers to inspire the confidence of a man, Elizabeth declared, "It will be my pleasure, sir."
The exchange was overhead by Jarrod, and he glanced at his mother and smiled, realizing by her expression that she had been privy to the engagement as well. Jarrod had done his work well; persuading Nick that Elizabeth was not, by rights of having known Nick most of her life, bound to him alone, unless it was of Nick's doing, and Elizabeth's desire.
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