Read Online The Rose Legacy by Kristen Heitzmann - Free Book Online
Authors: Kristen Heitzmann
Ads: Link
much for you to carry, too?” She stroked his soft muzzle. “Very well. I’ll walk, and you will carry my books. It’s not so far, now. Come.” She pulled gently, and he followed, head low and coughing until again he resisted the rein.
“Come. We cannot stop here. Slowly, sì , but come.” She tugged. As the sun nestled behind Mount Pointe, the evening chill penetrated her blouse, and when Dom balked again, she released him.
“All right. We’ll rest.” She walked around to the sheet and rummaged for the shawl she had scooped up with the other clothes. It was snagged with branches and grass, but she picked them off and wrapped it over her shoulders.
The hollow in her stomach grew more insistent as she crossed her arms against her chest and watched the sky fade from gold to gray. She would have eaten by now if Dom were more cooperative. She eyed him sullenly where he stood, not even grazing, just heaving softly and hanging his big head. “ Disgrazia , you should be ashamed.” There was still plenty of light to see by, but without the sun’s rays, the air grew cold. They had to go on.
She walked over and felt his neck again. It was damp with sweat, and he shivered. Was he ill? Somewhere in the trees behind her, an owl gave a throaty cry. She was not afraid, but the wild loneliness of its call sent a shiver up her back.
Setting her chin, she took Dom’s bridle. “Gidd-up.”
He followed two paces, then stopped. Pressing her head to his neck, she whispered, “Please, Dom. Per piacere .”
He stepped forward, one pace, another.
“That’s right.” She held his head between her hands. He followed slowly. At this rate, they would not reach Crystal before dark, but they were moving. Then Dom stumbled and balked, yanking her arm.
Carina bit her lip in frustration. Why was everything going wrong? Just when she thought the worst had passed, it was something new. She looked into the darkening sky. “Why, Signore? Do you have to strike my mule? It is not enough that I lose my things, my house?” And so much more that she wouldn’t put into words.
She dropped to the side of the road, folded her arms around her knees, and laid her forehead down. Thoughts crowded in, thoughts she had fought for weeks. Thoughts of Flavio, his smile, his eyes like dark velvet, the sound of his voice when he said her name.
The sound of his voice saying Divina’s name! Carina clamped her ears with her hands and fought the tears. She would not cry. She was too angry to cry. But the tears lodged in a hard knot in her chest. Was it pride to resist them? To hope, however vainly, that things might come right, could come right if only …?
Would he come? Was she worth a thousand miles to him? She slapped her knees with her palms. What if he did? Would she accept him now, knowing what she only suspected before? Why did her heart linger so? Should it not repulse her for what he was?
Carina stood and slid the loaded sheet from Dom’s back. Keeping it balanced as Quillan Shepard had tied it, she hung it across the back of her own neck. The weight pulled her head forward, and try as she might, she couldn’t tolerate it. Slipping the load over her head, she dropped it to the ground, yanked the knots open, and spread the sheet.
The pot could go, and the kettle. Until she had a kitchen she would not need them. She carried them beneath the trees and tucked them into the undergrowth, then went back to the road. The silver she would not part with, nor the books, where the weather would spoil them. She laid them in two stacks and padded them with the clothing, then tied up the middle as it had been and tried again.
Please, Signore. A small favor. It was heavy, painfully so, but she would do it. She straightened herself under the weight of her load, took Dom’s bridle, and walked. He followed without protest now that she carried his load. Maybe he had rested enough. Maybe he sensed she had no patience left. Maybe … God had listened.
By the
“Come. We cannot stop here. Slowly, sì , but come.” She tugged. As the sun nestled behind Mount Pointe, the evening chill penetrated her blouse, and when Dom balked again, she released him.
“All right. We’ll rest.” She walked around to the sheet and rummaged for the shawl she had scooped up with the other clothes. It was snagged with branches and grass, but she picked them off and wrapped it over her shoulders.
The hollow in her stomach grew more insistent as she crossed her arms against her chest and watched the sky fade from gold to gray. She would have eaten by now if Dom were more cooperative. She eyed him sullenly where he stood, not even grazing, just heaving softly and hanging his big head. “ Disgrazia , you should be ashamed.” There was still plenty of light to see by, but without the sun’s rays, the air grew cold. They had to go on.
She walked over and felt his neck again. It was damp with sweat, and he shivered. Was he ill? Somewhere in the trees behind her, an owl gave a throaty cry. She was not afraid, but the wild loneliness of its call sent a shiver up her back.
Setting her chin, she took Dom’s bridle. “Gidd-up.”
He followed two paces, then stopped. Pressing her head to his neck, she whispered, “Please, Dom. Per piacere .”
He stepped forward, one pace, another.
“That’s right.” She held his head between her hands. He followed slowly. At this rate, they would not reach Crystal before dark, but they were moving. Then Dom stumbled and balked, yanking her arm.
Carina bit her lip in frustration. Why was everything going wrong? Just when she thought the worst had passed, it was something new. She looked into the darkening sky. “Why, Signore? Do you have to strike my mule? It is not enough that I lose my things, my house?” And so much more that she wouldn’t put into words.
She dropped to the side of the road, folded her arms around her knees, and laid her forehead down. Thoughts crowded in, thoughts she had fought for weeks. Thoughts of Flavio, his smile, his eyes like dark velvet, the sound of his voice when he said her name.
The sound of his voice saying Divina’s name! Carina clamped her ears with her hands and fought the tears. She would not cry. She was too angry to cry. But the tears lodged in a hard knot in her chest. Was it pride to resist them? To hope, however vainly, that things might come right, could come right if only …?
Would he come? Was she worth a thousand miles to him? She slapped her knees with her palms. What if he did? Would she accept him now, knowing what she only suspected before? Why did her heart linger so? Should it not repulse her for what he was?
Carina stood and slid the loaded sheet from Dom’s back. Keeping it balanced as Quillan Shepard had tied it, she hung it across the back of her own neck. The weight pulled her head forward, and try as she might, she couldn’t tolerate it. Slipping the load over her head, she dropped it to the ground, yanked the knots open, and spread the sheet.
The pot could go, and the kettle. Until she had a kitchen she would not need them. She carried them beneath the trees and tucked them into the undergrowth, then went back to the road. The silver she would not part with, nor the books, where the weather would spoil them. She laid them in two stacks and padded them with the clothing, then tied up the middle as it had been and tried again.
Please, Signore. A small favor. It was heavy, painfully so, but she would do it. She straightened herself under the weight of her load, took Dom’s bridle, and walked. He followed without protest now that she carried his load. Maybe he had rested enough. Maybe he sensed she had no patience left. Maybe … God had listened.
By the
Similar Books
