Read Online The Genuine Lady (Heroines on Horseback) by Sydney Alexander - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Sydney Alexander
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their entire lives. Possibly, Cherry thought, she could have used a sister to rely on in the past two years. Or even a brother to defend her against the gossip against her name.
She wondered, nodding with absent enthusiasm as she took a grubby handkerchief bulging with cornbread, if there would be a brother or sister for Little Edward, and then she was surprised at herself for having such a thought. How could there be, with Edward gone?
Edward was dead, she reminded herself sternly, and so with him all the other children she might have borne him. She’d lost more than her honor and her place in her own family, her name and her position in society; she’d also lost the husband and the family she could have had. She knew that. She had always known that, since the day she found out that Edward would not be coming home.
Remembering that moment when her heart had felt ripped from her chest, Cherry blinked away a sudden tear; she coughed and turned her head so that she could flick away the offending object without being seen by the sharp-eyed homesteaders. Patty Mayfield, close at her side like a faithful chaperone, made a noise of dismay and snatched Matt’s handkerchief from his breast pocket; it was not a terribly clean handkerchief, predictably, but she passed it to Cherry eagerly and Cherry was obliged to set down the bundle of cornbread on the growing pile of baked goods next to her and accept the grubby hankie.
“Dust,” she sniffed, smiling thinly at Patty, and dabbed delicately at her nose, as if she had been sneezing. “I am so plagued by the least bit of dust.”
Patty’s eyes widened a little. “I hope there isn’t too much dust for you out here, ma’am. It can get almighty dry sometimes.”
“Not too dusty, no, let us hope,” Cherry said confusedly, not sure she should have admitted a weakness in her constitution. “I shall certainly grow accustomed to it. It is merely — ah — a new sort of dust, one knows. The very soil is quite changed from what I knew in England.”
Patty nodded eagerly. She was just as ready to exonerate Cherry from any sort of city-bred affliction as Cherry was to deny it. “It takes time, yes it does ma’am. Why when we came out here from Minnesota, I scarcely knew what to do with myself. All the trees was gone. I asked my mama where all the trees was gone to, and she started to cry a little. But we got so we were used to it, and now I wouldn’t live anywhere else. Trees and buildings, they’d choke me. I wouldn’t be able to breathe.” She said this last in a dramatic, slight accent, daring to appropriate Cherry’s delicious accent into her own broad voice for just a few words, and she could not help but thrill at the sound of it.
Cherry heard the inflection and smiled a little, distracted from her sudden sorrow over Edward and their unrealized family, and Patty smiled back, a warm glowing hero-worship sort of smile, and Cherry felt her own lips widen and her eyes warm, so awash was she in a sudden sweet feeling of camaraderie and friendship, and into their sunny aura of good feeling strode Jared Reese, dark-browed and creamy-Stetsoned, thumbs hooked in his wide leather belt, and he flashed a rare smile of his own at them all.
“Jared!” Patty exclaimed, and put out one tan hand to pull him closer. She plucked at his plaid shirt. “Where have you been? Mrs. Beacham had to come wandering over here alone! What sort of escort are you, now?”
Jared’s smile hung on grimly. Cherry thought him a very rude man. What was he thinking of? She had made it quite clear she was not interested in conversing with him any further. He had been insufferable on the ride in, telling her she was going to have to toughen up! The nerve! She’d show him tough , so she would. A Beacham lady was just as tough as any old cowboy. And the day would come when he would look at her farm and he would eat his words. Until then, though, she wasn’t much interested in his company. He
She wondered, nodding with absent enthusiasm as she took a grubby handkerchief bulging with cornbread, if there would be a brother or sister for Little Edward, and then she was surprised at herself for having such a thought. How could there be, with Edward gone?
Edward was dead, she reminded herself sternly, and so with him all the other children she might have borne him. She’d lost more than her honor and her place in her own family, her name and her position in society; she’d also lost the husband and the family she could have had. She knew that. She had always known that, since the day she found out that Edward would not be coming home.
Remembering that moment when her heart had felt ripped from her chest, Cherry blinked away a sudden tear; she coughed and turned her head so that she could flick away the offending object without being seen by the sharp-eyed homesteaders. Patty Mayfield, close at her side like a faithful chaperone, made a noise of dismay and snatched Matt’s handkerchief from his breast pocket; it was not a terribly clean handkerchief, predictably, but she passed it to Cherry eagerly and Cherry was obliged to set down the bundle of cornbread on the growing pile of baked goods next to her and accept the grubby hankie.
“Dust,” she sniffed, smiling thinly at Patty, and dabbed delicately at her nose, as if she had been sneezing. “I am so plagued by the least bit of dust.”
Patty’s eyes widened a little. “I hope there isn’t too much dust for you out here, ma’am. It can get almighty dry sometimes.”
“Not too dusty, no, let us hope,” Cherry said confusedly, not sure she should have admitted a weakness in her constitution. “I shall certainly grow accustomed to it. It is merely — ah — a new sort of dust, one knows. The very soil is quite changed from what I knew in England.”
Patty nodded eagerly. She was just as ready to exonerate Cherry from any sort of city-bred affliction as Cherry was to deny it. “It takes time, yes it does ma’am. Why when we came out here from Minnesota, I scarcely knew what to do with myself. All the trees was gone. I asked my mama where all the trees was gone to, and she started to cry a little. But we got so we were used to it, and now I wouldn’t live anywhere else. Trees and buildings, they’d choke me. I wouldn’t be able to breathe.” She said this last in a dramatic, slight accent, daring to appropriate Cherry’s delicious accent into her own broad voice for just a few words, and she could not help but thrill at the sound of it.
Cherry heard the inflection and smiled a little, distracted from her sudden sorrow over Edward and their unrealized family, and Patty smiled back, a warm glowing hero-worship sort of smile, and Cherry felt her own lips widen and her eyes warm, so awash was she in a sudden sweet feeling of camaraderie and friendship, and into their sunny aura of good feeling strode Jared Reese, dark-browed and creamy-Stetsoned, thumbs hooked in his wide leather belt, and he flashed a rare smile of his own at them all.
“Jared!” Patty exclaimed, and put out one tan hand to pull him closer. She plucked at his plaid shirt. “Where have you been? Mrs. Beacham had to come wandering over here alone! What sort of escort are you, now?”
Jared’s smile hung on grimly. Cherry thought him a very rude man. What was he thinking of? She had made it quite clear she was not interested in conversing with him any further. He had been insufferable on the ride in, telling her she was going to have to toughen up! The nerve! She’d show him tough , so she would. A Beacham lady was just as tough as any old cowboy. And the day would come when he would look at her farm and he would eat his words. Until then, though, she wasn’t much interested in his company. He
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