Lady of Light (20 page)

“To start a fire,” Abby explained, tugging open several doors on the cookstove, “you first have to fill the firebox with some nice, dry wood. Then, after starting it, you have to get all these doors and regulators adjusted for the proper airflow into the stove. This little door here”—she indicated a long, narrow door below and to the left of the firebox—“is the main draft regulator. This is the one that’ll give you problems on Old Bess, if anything does. There are times when I wonder if I’ll ever get it open just right to make the fire burn hot.”

“It looks simple enough.”

“Well, looks can be deceiving, as you’re bound to discover sooner or later.” Abby shoved to her feet. “How about I put on a kettle of water? By the time we’ve got the pork roast in the oven and the potatoes peeled and starting to cook, I’ll bet the water will be hot enough for a cup of tea.”

Claire stood. “That’s a fine idea. Now, what would you like me to do? Peel the potatoes or prepare the roast?”

Abby shrugged. “Peel the potatoes, if you don’t mind.”

The next half hour was spent readying the food for cooking and, just as Abby had predicted, by then the tea water was simmering nicely. She took down two pottery mugs from one of the kitchen’s two cupboards; filled a silver tea strainer with tea leaves, then held it first over one cup, then the other as she poured boiling water through it. A few minutes later, both women were sitting at the cloth-covered table sipping their tea.

For a time they sat in companionable silence, Claire savoring the sounds of the kitchen. Sap from the pine logs in the firebox snapped and crackled, seared by the flames of the now vigorously burning fire. Within the stove, a thick pork roast—seasoned with salt, pepper, and rosemary—sizzled, releasing the most mouthwatering aroma. The large pot of potatoes began to steam, and foamy layers of starch floated to the water’s surface. On a sideboard, the remaining stash of last fall’s dried apples had been made into a crusty cobbler.

It was a cozy, cheerful kitchen, Claire thought. The creature comforts it afforded boggled the mind. In addition to the huge cookstove that offered both an oven for baking and a surface for cooking, the big sink was equipped with a gadget Abby called a pitcher pump. All Claire knew was that vigorously raising and lowering the handle soon delivered a steady stream of fresh, clean water. The floor was of hardwood rather than the packed earth she had always known. There was a place to store smoked meat in the cellar, and not far from the house was a springhouse with a natural spring running through it that kept cool milk, cheese, and butter.

It was all most assuredly the height of luxury.

The sound of feet on the back porch jerked Claire from her contented musings. The door swung open, and a laughing Ian and Beth hurried in.

“When’s supper?” her brother demanded, glancing from Claire to Abby.

Claire rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Supper won’t be ready for another hour or so. And, generally, one offers a greeting before launching into one’s questions. That’s far more polite, to say the verra least.”

Ian colored in embarrassment. “I beg pardon, ma’am,” he muttered, barely managing an apologetic glance at Abby.

The chestnut-haired woman chuckled. “Your apology’s accepted. And to answer your next question, we’ll be having roast pork, boiled potatoes, green beans, and an apple cobbler for dessert.”

The young man’s eyes lit with anticipation. “Truly, it sounds verra delicious.” He looked to Beth, who had stood there the whole time gazing at him. “It appears that we’ve time for a wee round of checkers. What do you say, Elizabeth?”

She grinned and grabbed his hand. “I think that sounds quite fine. Come on,”—she tugged on Ian’s hand—“let’s go. I need to even the score for you beating me the last time we played.”

With that, they dashed from the kitchen and into the parlor, leaving a trail of laughter.

Abby arched a brow at Claire. “Elizabeth, is it? No one calls her Elizabeth.”

Claire shrugged and smiled.

“They’re getting along quite nicely, don’t you think?” Abby paused to take another sip of her tea. “Ian seems to be settling into life here with great alacrity. Is he always so quick to adapt?”

Claire tensed. Was there more to Abby’s casually couched question than met the eye? Surely Evan hadn’t told her about Ian’s checkered past?

“He seems quite happy to me,” she hedged, not quite meeting Abby’s inquiring gaze. “Evan keeps him well occupied each day with riding lessons and ranch chores, and then, in the afternoons, with working on the house. I don’t see how Ian couldn’t help but be ‘settling in,’ as you say.”

“Oh, I didn’t mean to imply that I had any problems with him.” Despite Claire’s best attempts to hide her unease, Abby must have sensed something was amiss. “Ian’s a dear, sweet boy. It’s just that school will be starting in another month, and I was wondering if he’d be feeling comfortable enough by then to attend classes.”

Relief filled Claire. Abby’s questions had indeed been as innocent as they seemed. “Most likely he will. Does Beth plan to begin school then, too?”

Abby hesitated, then resolutely met her gaze. “I don’t know. She hasn’t attended school in Grand View for years. But she’s come such a long way in the past four years, and maybe if Ian was there …” She inhaled a deep breath. “Well, I thought maybe this time I could convince her to give it a try.”

“What happened for Beth not to like school?” Claire leaned forward. “If you don’t mind telling me, that is.”

“No, I don’t mind telling you. You’re family, after all.” Abby sighed. “Before I came to Culdee Creek, or even knew Conor or Beth, a former housekeeper caused Beth to be accused by her schoolteacher of stealing his prized pocket watch. He locked her in the closet beside the wood stove to punish her, and she nearly died from the heat. It took months for Beth to recover from the incident, and Conor vowed not ever to send her back to school again.”

“How old was Beth at the time?”

“Eight. She was just eight years old.”

“That was exceedingly cruel of the man,” Claire murmured, even as she recalled some of the cruelties she and Ian had also suffered in their young lives.

“Yes, it was. There’s more, though. Even before Beth was punished so harshly, she’d been having problems with her classmates. Beth’s mother, you see, was a Cheyenne Indian woman whom Conor had hired for his housekeeper and nanny to Evan, after Evan’s mother ran off with another man. And, though Conor loved this Indian woman, he never wed her.”

The enormity of Beth’s plight slowly filtered through Claire’s mind. Not only was the girl a half-breed, but she was illegitimate, too. “I suppose the other children knew all this, about Beth, I mean?”

Abby nodded. “Yes. It’s hard to keep much secret from such a small, tight-knit community out here. And some folk less tolerant or forgiving chose to punish Beth for her father’s actions. Unfortunately, their children figured it gave them free rein to torment Beth.”

Claire pushed her mug back and forth between her hands. “Do you think much will have changed, just because Beth’s older now?”

“I’d like to hope so. Beth’s a lot more confident and assertive than she used to be. Conor’s status in the community has improved, and he’s once more considered a respected citizen. And, considering the fast friends Beth and Ian have become …”

“Ian’s verra loyal to his friends, and will stand up for them.” Claire lifted her gaze to Abby’s. “I don’t think he’ll long tolerate anyone harming Beth. But I must also tell you that he had problems at school in Culdee, and was frequently in fights. I don’t wish for him to begin so poorly again.”

“He seems a good-hearted, bright young man. Perhaps he’ll be able to make a fresh start here.”

“Aye,” Claire murmured, “I pray that it’ll be so. I couldn’t bear it if he failed yet again.”

Abby reached over and placed her hand on Claire’s. “As I couldn’t, if Beth failed. Sometimes, though, the Lord sends a helpmate when someone most needs it. I’m praying that’s what Ian will be for Beth, and Beth, for Ian.”

Like sunlight breaking through a cloud-shrouded day, hope flooded Claire. After all the pain and horror her brother had been through, he deserved a chance to redeem himself and build a new, better life. It would make up, if only in some small way, for what her pride and thoughtlessness so many years ago had caused him.

“Aye, mayhap it is indeed the Lord’s plan,” Claire agreed softly. “It would be a blessing if it was. A grand and glorious blessing.”

The Wednesday of the Grand View Ladies Quilting Society meeting dawned bright and warm. With a mix of nervousness and eager anticipation, Claire hurried to help Abby with the breakfast and morning chores, then joined Evan and Ian for the trip to Grand View. The plan was to drop her off at Millie and Noah Starr’s house, pick up cattle feed and deliver it back to the ranch, then return for her four hours later when the quilting society adjourned.

Though the terrain hadn’t changed much in the two weeks since they had first arrived, Claire was already beginning to view the land with new, more appreciative eyes. Where once she had seen only sparse, rather scraggly green grass, she now saw bright wildflowers among the waving blades. Where once she had found the wide, rolling hills austerely barren, now she noticed what a marvelous, unobstructed backdrop they provided for the startlingly blue sky. And where once she had mourned the lack of rain and the dry, dusty land, she now rejoiced in the abundance of clear, sunny days.

“It’s amazing,” she said to Evan as he drove along, “what a difference but two weeks can make.”

Dark blue eyes crinkled in a lean, tanned face. “Colorado does grow on you, if you give it even half a chance. I can’t tell you, though, how happy it makes me that you’re coming to like my home.” With his free hand, Evan took her hand and lifted it to his lips. “I love you so much, Claire.”

“And I love—”

A loud groan rose from behind them. “Will you two ever cease your love talk?” Ian sighed. “You’re both far too old to be carrying on like this, you know? Even Elizabeth talks about your behavior.”

Claire gave an exasperated snort, pulled her hand from Evan’s, and turned in the seat to eye her brother. His continued harping on her and Evan’s relationship was beginning to wear a bit thin. “Elizabeth, is it?” she shot back at him. “Well, I find it passing strange that no one at Culdee Creek save you calls her that. One would almost think you’re beginning to carry on a bit yourself.”

Evan cast a sharp look over his shoulder. “Is that so? What’s going on, Ian? Do you have feelings for my sister?”

“Och, it isn’t like that!” Ian graced Claire with a withering glare. “Elizabeth’s just special. She’s not like most girls. She’s more like … like a sister. She listens to me, and when she has something to say, well, it’s about important things, not dresses and hair ribbons and kissing boys.”

Glancing from her brother to her husband, Claire wished she had bitten off her tongue rather than have teased Ian like she had. If looks could’ve translated into action, her brother would have already trussed, skewered, and roasted her over a blazing fire. Evan looked none too pleased, either, if the taut lips and muscle twitching in his jaw were any indication of his true feelings.

“Och,” she said with an uneasy little laugh, “I didn’t mean aught by that, Ian. I know you and Beth are but good friends. I was teasing you to get back at you for what you’re constantly saying about Evan and me. But I gather this time I may have gone too far.”

“Aye, that you did,” Ian muttered.

Claire sighed and shook her head. “Well, then I’m sorry for it, that I am. And sorry if I upset you, too, Evan.”

“It’s okay,” he bit out the words. “I guess I’m just being a bit overprotective of my sister. She’s grown up a lot in the past year. She’s getting to be a young woman—and a very pretty one at that—and it has all happened so fast I haven’t had a chance to catch up to it yet.”

Claire patted his hand. “It’s quite understandable, Evan.” She looked back at Ian once more. “Isn’t it, Ian?”

“Aye, I suppose so,” the young man replied, even as he shot Evan one of those old, wary looks that always pierced clear to the depths of Claire’s heart. “No harm done.”