Pemberley Ranch (3 page)

Darcy narrowed his eyes. “Nacogdoches? You’re wearing the uniform of the Virginia Cavalry, sir.”

“You’ve a sharp eye, Mr. Darcy. No, I didn’t steal these clothes, though I did help myself to this here carbine from a Yankee trooper who had no further use for it. Help yourself to some coffee, an’ I’ll tell you my tale.”

The two helped themselves to the pot. The steaming black concoction had more acorns and leaves in it than coffee, but at least it was hot.

“I was orphaned at a young age an’ was raised by relations on a cotton farm near Nacogdoches. My uncle had some connections in the army from the Mexican War, so I got a commission to attend the Virginia Military Institute. I was there when the war broke out an’ followed Stonewall Jackson to take on the foe. Ridin’ suited me better than walkin’, so I hooked up with Jeb Stuart. Rode with him from Manassas to Gettysburg to Yellow
Tavern.” He lifted his mug. “Here’s to you, ole Jeb, may you rest in peace.”

Darcy and Bingley had a bit of food and offered to share it with Fitzwilliam. As they ate, they told stories of their war experiences. Fitzwilliam did most of the talking, as Darcy and Bingley were particularly quiet about their time as prisoners of war.

Finally, Fitzwilliam asked, “So, what are your plans, Dr. Bingley?”

Bingley swallowed a spoonful of beans. “Call me Charles, Fitz. Goin’ west with Will, here. He tells me there’s need for a doctor in Rosings, so I’m goin’ to give it a try. What about you? Headin’ back to Nacogdoches?”

“Nah. Never did take to farming, to the grief of my uncle. I got an itch to ride the range, punchin’ cattle an’ such. I’m headin’ west—goin’ to sign on with a cattle ranch.”

Darcy eyed him. “Ever rode cattle, Fitz?”

“Not yet,” he grinned. “You offering me a job, Darcy?”

“That’s up to my daddy, but you can come along.”

“Thank you kindly, Mr. Darcy.”

Darcy grinned for the first time. “Good that you know your place, Fitz. Pour me some more of that black stuff you’re passing off as coffee.”

“Hell with that,” Fitz returned as he pulled a small bottle from a saddlebag and tossed it to Darcy. “Take a snort o’ this.”

“Holding out on us, Fitz?” asked Darcy as he took a swig. A moment later he coughed down the rotgut whiskey, to Fitz’s and Bingley’s laughter.

“Had to have a reason to celebrate. I’ve a feeling we’re goin’ to have interestin’ times, Darcy.”

Meryton—1868

After church on Sunday, Thomas Bennet looked on his family as they ate the midday dinner: Jane, at twenty, his surviving eldest and in the full bloom of her beauty; Elizabeth, his darling Beth, eighteen and as free-spirited as ever; Mary, almost seventeen and as serious as Beth was playful; Kathy, thirteen and on the cusp of womanhood; and Lily, the baby, a very pretty and precocious twelve and her mother’s delight. For a moment the memory of his only son, Samuel—five years in a grave in Maryland—flashed before his mind. Samuel was a hole in his soul that would never heal.

His eyes fell upon his cohort for the past quarter-century, his wife, Fanny. He loved her dearly, but he was not blind to her shortcomings. Never an intelligent or introspective person, she had been a gay and kind companion during the majority of their life together, but Fanny had changed since the loss of Samuel. She was now prone to fits of anxiety and, therefore, less of a guiding light to the three youngest than she had been to Samuel, Jane, and Beth in their youth. The children had been given free rein to indulge in their more unfortunate tendencies: Mary was unsociable, Kathy was as emotional as her mother, and Lily was terribly spoiled. Bennet was loath to admit that he bore some responsibility for this sad state of affairs; he had found young children uninteresting and had given his attention only to his eldest.

Samuel, oh Samuel!
he thought again. The loss of his heir would cost his family more than they knew.

Bennet cleared his throat. “My dears, I have an announcement to make.” The Bennet women turned their attention to him. Bennet inwardly grimaced in anticipation of the uproar
to come. “For quite a while we’ve lived in comfort. Working the land with my brothers has adequately provided for us for these many years.”

“Adequately provided?” cried his wife. “It’s all right for you to say so, Thomas, if you believe having five unmarried daughters with no dowry to speak of ‘adequate,’ or even enough money to have but one store-bought dress each, but I don’t believe it is so!”

“Indeed, my dear. And now with the return of my nephews from the war and their growing families… Forgive me, Fanny.”

Mrs. Bennet wiped the tear from her eye. “Please, Thomas, say no more about that, or I will think of our poor, lost Samuel again.” She could say no more as she wept, and Kathy joined in. Jane and Beth consoled the others, Mary sighed in disapproval, and Lily looked bored.

Bennet held his tongue until his wife was tolerably composed. “My dear, now that our nephews are having families of their own, the Bennet Farm will not produce enough for all of us. Therefore, I have spoken to my brothers, and they have agreed to buy me out.”

“Buy us out! But, Thomas, what shall we do?”

Jane spoke up. “Are you buying another farm, Father?”

“Yes, I am—a place of our very own.”

“Will we have to leave home?” Kathy gasped.

“Yes, we will—”

Fanny cut him off. “Oh, who cares about this old house; we inherited it from Grandmother Bennet! A house of our own! How delightful! Is it near the river, dear? I hope it is near the river.”

Bennet glanced down at his plate. “It
is
near a river, Fanny.”

Beth frowned. “But, Father, how much did our uncles pay?
Land near the river is so very dear. They surely couldn’t pay that much.”

“They paid enough, Beth. We will have a new farm near a river, but it will not be here.”

“Not here!” Mrs. Bennet looked at her daughters. “But where? Is it nearby?”

“No, dear.”

That got Mary’s attention. “We will have to change churches?”

“I am afraid so, child.”

“I know!” Mrs. Bennet claimed. “You always knew I favored the next county. So lovely, and I have family there…”

“Pooh! I don’t care for them!” cried Lily. “Last time we visited, the boys pulled my hair!”

“That was three years ago,” said Jane gently. “Surely they will be kinder now.”

Bennet raised his voice. “Please, enough of this! We are not moving to the next county.” The women all stared at him. “I have found a wonderful place where we can grow vegetables and corn almost year-round and still have room for cattle.”

“Year-round! Thomas, you tease me. One cannot grow vegetables in Ohio in winter!”

“One can in Rosings.”

“Rosings! I never heard of such a place. Where in Ohio is this paradise?”

Bennet took a breath. “It is not in Ohio; it is in Texas.”

Bennet was surprised. The room was quiet much longer than he anticipated. But the explosion that followed was all he expected.

“Texas!” Beth cried again for the countless time. “How can Father make us all go to Texas?”

Jane sighed as she brushed Beth’s hair, their nightly routine before bed. “He’s doing the best he can. The farm he described is large enough to take care of all our needs. We’ll have farmhands to help. It sounds delightful.”

Beth was not appeased. “If Samuel were here, he would talk Father out of this!”

“Beth, if Samuel were here, we might be buying out our uncles. But he is not. We must try to persevere. Father needs our support, not our censure.”

Beth bit her lip as she recalled her mother’s unkind exclamations at table. “You’re right. Father is trying to care for us. But… oh, Jane! Texas! I can’t believe it. I hate it!”

“It is very far away from here—that’s true.”

“It’s not Texas that I’m talking about, but the Texans! I haven’t forgotten that they turned their backs on the Union and most disgracefully took up arms against us, all to preserve their vile practice of slavery!”

“Beth, we are taught to forgive. Perhaps they have seen the wickedness of their ways and have repented.”

“Perhaps,” Beth said, but to herself, she thought,
You may forgive them, Jane, for you are good. But I will never forget that if not for them, Samuel would still be alive. I will never forgive them. Never.

¹
A fortification that has two projecting faces and two parallel flanks.

Rosings, Texas—September, 1870

A
LONE FIGURE SAT
astride a tall, black Arabian under a single oak tree atop a ridge. It was a hot day, and in the early afternoon sun, the shade was welcomed by horse and rider alike, standing as still as a statue. He was a tall man in a white shirt with dark trousers and black boots, his unbuttoned vest flapping in the slight breeze, a tan, wide-brimmed, ten-gallon hat pulled low over his brow. Before him stretched a sea of prairie, dotted with hundreds of cattle, lowing and grazing. They were not alone; a handful of wranglers carefully moved their cowponies around the vast herd, keeping an eye out for trouble. The movement of the horses disturbed the man’s mount, and he reached down to gently stroke its neck.

“Whoa there, Caesar, rest easy,” William Darcy cooed. “We’ll just stay here under the shade for now. Enjoy the cool.” The stallion nodded his head in apparent agreement and bent to take a few nibbles of grass. The man’s attention returned to the scene before him, his bright blue eyes taking in every detail.

A flash of moving white caught his attention. He turned away from his perusal of the herd and twisted in the saddle. There! Across the ridge of hills was a rider, moving fast. Darcy narrowed his eyes in concentration. The horse was a brown-and-white paint, and none of his riders had such a horse. A stranger—on his land! Caesar began to prance in place, feeling his master’s tension through the reins.

The rider seemed to be alone, and while Darcy had left his gun belt and Colt revolver at the house, he did have a rifle holstered to his saddle. “What say we go check that out, boy?” The horse agreed, and they loped down the hill.

Darcy moved at an angle to the stranger, holding Caesar back until necessary. The intruder was at a full gallop, flying across the crest. Darcy lost sight of the paint as he reached the valley between the hills, and he allowed Caesar his head. The stallion dug in and moved quickly up the rise, and Darcy saw with confidence that he was in the proper position to cut off the paint. Caesar spotted his quarry and headed toward the other horse, waiting for direction from his master.

As they grew closer, Darcy could see that the rider and paint moved in perfect harmony. The horse was rather small, but so was the rider.
A boy?
Darcy thought, before noticing the wild, curly hair flying on either side of the rider’s hat. As Darcy pulled to a halt, blocking the paint’s progress, a shock of realization coursed through him.
That’s no boy—that’s a girl! A girl in men’s clothing!

He pulled his hand away from his rifle, and unarmed, raised his palm in an unmistakable sign. “Hold on, miss!”

The surprised girl came to a halt a few feet away, dust swirling in the breeze. She had on a red-and-white gingham shirt and
dungarees, boots firmly in the stirrups. She wore a wide-brimmed floppy hat, shading her face, but even at that distance, he could see her blazing eyes.

“What do you want?”

Her voice was lower than Darcy expected from so short a person—she could not be more than five feet two inches—but it was not unpleasant to his ears, though it was Northern and unfriendly. Darcy was not used to answering demands from anyone in the last four years, and he wasn’t going to change for some strange female.

“Who are you?” he demanded. “This is private property. Who gave you leave to ride across Pemberley?”

“Private?” It was clear he surprised her. “All this? I thought this was open range.”

“Not hardly. Everything this side of the Long Branch belongs to Pemberley Ranch.” He considered her. “You’re not from around here, are you?”

The girl raised her chin. “We are now. Our place is across the river. My father owns the farm there.”

Darcy relaxed a bit. “The old Thompson place?” She answered with a nod. “You’re one of Tom Bennet’s daughters? I was told he had a herd of them.” Almost immediately he recognized how his choice of words could be considered an insult, but it was too late.

The girl’s voice was ice cold. “Tom Bennet is indeed my father, sir, and I thank you for your kind observations about my family. Now, if you’ll pardon me.” She pulled her reins to return from whence she came, only to be halted by Darcy’s words.

“I’ll escort you back to the ford, miss, if you don’t mind.”

She looked over her shoulder at him. “I
do
mind. You’ve
made it clear that I’m not welcomed here, and I can see myself home. Good day.” To her increased irritation, Darcy fell in beside her. “I see there was no cause for me to voice my preference!”

“The ground is uneven here, and as it’s unfamiliar to you, you might meet with misfortune.”

“So—I cannot ride my horse, is that what you mean?”

Darcy snapped back, “I truly don’t wish to offend, miss, but you’re being mighty stubborn! Your pony might fall into some gopher hole and break his leg and have to be put down. Now, I call that a tall price to pay for your pride!”

The girl said nothing, she only lowered her head. But Darcy could see the color rise on her cheek as she bit her lip. The two rode in silence for some time along the ridgeline before turning right and making their way down to the river. The trees grew more plentiful and thick next to the riverbank. Darcy tried to come up with some conversation, but the girl’s studied avoidance of his glance stilled his tongue. After a few more minutes, they reached a shallow ford across the Long Branch.

“Well, here we are—Thompson Crossing. Your daddy’s farm’s on the other side. I reckon this is how you crossed over?”

The girl’s sarcastic side reasserted itself. “It is. Thank you so much for assuring I didn’t cause Turner any injury. I am forever grateful!”

Darcy blinked. “Turner? Your horse’s name is Turner?”

A grin stole across her face. “It is, sir.”

“Strange. Most girls name their ponies Star or Brownie or Buster.”

Her grin turned into a mocking smile. “But I’m not like most girls, as I’m sure you’ve discovered.” With that, she spurred the paint across the ford, splashing water everywhere, leaving a
bemused Darcy behind. He shook his head before turning Caesar back toward the Pemberley ranch house. It was only then he realized that he had neglected to introduce himself.

No harm done
, he thought.
It’s not likely we’ll meet up again.

The girl in the wide-brimmed hat had just dismounted next to the barn when she heard her mother’s call.

“Beth Bennet—there you are! Come inside and change this instant! There’s company for dinner!”

“Yes, Mother.” She led Turner into his stall and removed his saddle. Hill, the farmhand, assured her he would see to the paint, so Beth hurried to the house and into the bedroom she shared with two of her sisters.

“Beth, you’re late,” said Mary unnecessarily as she was putting her own hair up.

“I’ll help you,” said Jane as Beth tugged off her shirt.

In a few moments, Beth had changed from farm tomboy to countrified young lady. By then, Kathy had joined them, brushing her hair as Jane helped button up the younger girl’s dress.

“Hurry!” cried Lily. “George is just arriving!”

“Lily!” scolded Mary. “That’s Mr. Whitehead! You should have more respect for your elders!”

“Oh, pooh! He’s like family. He gave me leave to call him George, didn’t he, Kathy?”

“Oh, yes,” Kathy responded with a dreamy look in her eye. “Isn’t he the handsomest man?”

“I don’t know,” Beth said as she glanced at Jane. “What say you, Jane?”

Jane gave a smile. “He’s very handsome, to be sure.”

Kathy laughed. “But not the
most
handsome, is he? Not like a certain doctor in town?” Giggles erupted as Jane blushed.

The door opened, and Mrs. Bennet stuck her head in. “Girls! Come along! Mr. Whitehead is here. Ah, Beth, you’re almost ready. Hurry, hurry!”

“I’ll help her, Mother,” Jane assured her. “The others can greet our guest.” With that, Lily and Kathy almost ran out of the room, Mary following at a more sedate pace.

Jane helped Beth finish her hair. “There, beautiful as usual!”

Beth laughed. “Oh, Jane, you are too good! The only way I can be called beautiful is if you’re not in the room.”

“That’s ridiculous. You are very pretty, and one day a young man will fall on his knees, assuring you of your loveliness when he asks for your hand, just mark my words.”

Beth laughed. “Is that what Charles did, dearest?” She laughed again as Jane blushed for a second time, but the laughter died a moment later. “Why did he refuse our invitation to dinner tonight?”

Jane pretended to arrange the brushes on the table. “Charles said he had pressing business, and he would dine with us tomorrow.”

“Jane, you know he stays away just because George is our guest for dinner! Why is he so stubborn? Surely he must accept our friends if he is to marry you. George is a brave and honorable man. To hold the fact that he fought for the Union against him is very unseemly, I’m sorry to say. Why, haven’t we forgiven him for being a Rebel?”

Jane glanced at Beth, her mouth a firm line. “I will not question my fiancé, sister. I shall be loyal to Charles.”

Slightly abashed, Beth took Jane’s hands into her own. “As shall I, I promise! He is to be my brother, and I will love him as such. I just worry over the influence of others on him.”

“You mean his friends, the Darcys?”

“Yes! You’ve heard what George has said about them—unrepentant Rebels, unfriendly to anyone not in the intimate circle.”

“I’ve heard that Mr. Darcy has taken the loyalty oath.”

“Oh, Jane! What comes out his mouth is not what’s in his heart, I can assure you. He has only taken the oath, I can believe, to be allowed to vote again. But he hasn’t changed one whit. Why, none of us has ever met him or his sister—even you haven’t, and you are to marry his best friend. And just today, one of his ranch hands warned me off his property.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. He wasn’t unpleasant, I hope.”

“Very!” Beth claimed, trying not to recall that the rude man on the Arabian was also undeniably fine looking. At Jane’s alarmed look, she quickly added, “But he was polite, all the same. I’m unharmed.”

She rose and they moved towards the door. “Beth,” said her sister in a worried tone, “I’m sorry you will have to stand with Mr. Darcy at my wedding, but Charles has no family here, and the man is his friend.”

“Don’t fear, Jane. For your happiness, I would do anything, even suffer Mr. Darcy. And I truly adore your Charles. Now, shall we go to dinner?”

George Whitehead patted his mouth with his napkin. “Mrs. Bennet, may I say once again what a marvelous table you set. A better dinner I have not had these four years since I left Illinois.”

Fanny Bennet giggled like a schoolgirl. “Oh, Mr. Whitehead, how you go on! Would you care for more of the beef? Pass him the plate, Kathy. Kathy—I’m speaking to you!”

Kathy Bennet stirred from her admiration for their dashing guest. “I’m sorry, Mother, what did you say?” Lily unsuccessfully hid a snigger, which earned a glare from her sister.

“The meat, the meat! Pass the plate to Mr. Whitehead!”

“Umm, dear, perhaps Kathy should wait until George has finished his portion?” suggested Mr. Bennet.