Long Trail Home Page 4

  He swatted dust off his shirt and pants, wishing again he had some clean clothes to put on. He stepped inside and his whole world changed, yanking him from his sorrows—from the life of a soldier to the life of the privileged. An elegant staircase with carved spindles curved up to the second-floor landing, its wood gleaming. A huge chandelier reigned overhead like a king’s crown, shiny marble flooring spilled out from beneath his feet across the entryway into each adjoining room, and lavish furniture crowded the parlor on his right. He didn’t belong here. He never had.

  For the first time, he realized he had no place to live. How could he expect Miranda’s father to approve of a marriage between them when he didn’t have a decent home to take her to? Disappointment weighed down his shoulders.

  “Who’s there, Jewel?” Mrs. Cooper glided out of the music room and into the foyer, looking every bit a Southern belle in her fancy dress and coiffure. She gave Riley a brief once-over and scowled. “Why did you let that ruffian in my house? Send him around back this instant.”

  Jewel hesitated then scurried over to Miranda’s mother. She stood on her tiptoes and leaned toward the woman’s ear. “Why that’s Mr. Riley, ma’am. He done returned from the war.”

  Mrs. Cooper’s eyes widened and her head snapped back in his direction. “Riley Morgan? What are you doing here?”

  He stepped forward, squashing the brim of his hat in his hands. He cleared his throat. “Isn’t that obvious, ma’am? I’m home, and I’ve come to see Miranda.”

  Mrs. Cooper gasped and fanned her face. “Oh, merciful heavens. Didn’t she write to you?”

  “You wants me to fetch a chair, Miz Cooper?”

  The woman regained her composure, and something hardened in her expression. Riley’s gut churned. Once again, he wasn’t receiving the reception he’d expected. “The last letter I got from Miranda was over six months ago, and it was several months old.”

  “I see.” She turned to her maid. “Leave us, and I’ll see Mr. Morgan out.”

  Jewel nodded then cast him an apologetic glance. Riley swallowed hard. Had something happened to his fiancée too?

  Mrs. Cooper stepped forward, clutched his arm, and turned him toward the door. She must have suddenly realized the sad state of his clothing, because she jerked back her hand and covered her nose. She glanced up at him with green eyes much like her daughter’s. “Years have passed, and you must realize things change after so long.”

  The hairs on the back of his neck stood at attention. “What kind of things?”

  She glanced behind her and fanned her face again. “Oh, dear. I do so wish Reginald was here to explain things to you.”

  “What things?” he asked again.

  She nibbled her lip then took a deep breath. “Miranda isn’t here. She’s uh … well, you were gone a long time, and you rarely wrote.”

  “I penned her a letter every chance I got, ma’am, but I was fighting a war. It’s hard to write letters and shoot at the enemy at the same time.”

  “Oh my.” Mrs. Cooper fanned herself faster.

  Riley knew he should hold his tongue, but his impatience grew. “Just where is Miranda, ma’am?”

  Mrs. Cooper closed her eyes as if steeling herself then looked at him again. “She is living in Austin—with her husband.”

  As if he’d been shot in the chest, Riley backed up until his spine collided with the front door. A pounding rumble, like the stampeding charge of a Union cavalry brigade, roared in his mind.

  Miranda was married?

  CHAPTER THREE

  Annie sat at the table, her head in her hand, supervising the last two girls who dawdled over their breakfast. She’d eaten little herself. Her appetite had fled last night with Laura’s declaration that she should find a man to marry. How could she even think of leaving the place she loved so much?

  The front door banged open, and Annie jumped. A herd of four youngsters, all talking, surged into the parlor, exhilarated after their morning walk nature lesson. Laura followed, carrying the empty laundry basket. While the children had enjoyed listening for birdcalls and identifying insect and other sounds outside before the sun heated things up, Laura had hung the morning’s laundry. She eyed Annie’s barely touched plate of pancakes. “You’re not still upset with me, are you?” Annie shrugged and couldn’t meet Laura’s eyes.

  “Tess, please take the basket and put it away, then get the other children settled in the classroom. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

  “Yes, Miss Laura.” The girl took the basket then called to the other children, who followed like ducklings.

  Annie watched the gangly girl move with confidence in spite of her lack of sight. At nine years of age, Tess was the oldest girl at the home and had been there the longest of all the children. She was scheduled to return to her family come Christmas, and Annie wasn’t looking forward to that day one bit.

  Laura clapped her hands. “All right, you two, that’s enough dawdling. Take your plates and silverware to the kitchen and wash up. Annie will be there shortly.”

  The young girls muttered, “Yes, ma’am,” in unison and did as they were told, amid the scraping of chairs against the floor and shuffling of little feet and the clattering of a dropped spoon.

  Laura brushed back some biscuit crumbs and sat down in the chair Camilla had vacated. Her concerned blue eyes probed Annie’s. “Now, tell me what’s eating at you.”

  “As if you don’t know.” Annie crossed her arms and stared at the ground. How could she leave here? The only home she’d ever had? “Last night, you told me that I should get married.”

  Laura laid her hand on Annie’s forearm. “I didn’t say that to upset you, but I don’t want you to one day look back on your life and wish you’d done things differently.”

  Flinging out her hands, Annie huffed a frustrated breath. “I love it here. Don’t forget, I traveled most of the southeastern states as a child. I know what’s out in this world, and everything I care for is right here.” She tried to relax and not raise her voice, when all she really wanted to do was scream, but she’d learned that loud discussions made the children anxious. She cleared her throat and leaned toward Laura. “Are you sorry that you’ve spent so many years of your life here?”

  The school’s director blinked, as if Annie’s pointed question took her off guard. “I … uh … no, I mean … sometimes. Oh, I don’t know.”

  Annie’s mouth dropped open. In the seven years she’d known Laura, the woman had never expressed a negative remark about spending the best years of her life caring for the children. She couldn’t think of a word to say.

  Laura was silent a moment before continuing. “Don’t take me wrong, I don’t regret my work here, but I did have a chance to marry once.”

  Annie couldn’t help it when her eyes widened. Why hadn’t she heard this news before? “Honestly? Why didn’t you?”

  Shrugging, Laura stared past her. “Sean was young then and had his own ideas of what a family was. He didn’t want to share me with the children. He wanted a wife at home who cooked every day and was there to greet him after work. He wanted a wife to raise his children, not other people’s damaged ones.”

  Annie gasped, her heart aching for her friend. “He actually said that?”

  Laura nodded and rearranged the centerpiece—a basket of rocks and arrowheads that the children had collected and wilted flowers that had been picked yesterday. “Yes, but I know Sean didn’t mean that. He was in love. He was angry and hurt that I chose my calling over a life with him. But I did—I had to. I was completely focused on my dream of helping blind children. Sean never understood that it was so important to me that I’d sacrifice marrying him to help the children. If he’d been willing to wait a few years, things might have worked out, but he was ready to marry then and gave me an ultimatum. Him or the school. I chose the school. I rarely ever see him these days, but once in a while I do wonder how things would have turned out if I had married him.”

  “Surely you don’
t mean he lives here in Waco?”

  Pressing her lips together so hard they turned a pale pink, Laura nodded again. “He left town for a number of years—went out west, so I heard. He returned a year ago, shortly after his father died and took over his business.”

  Annie jumped up and paced the room, trying to figure out who her friend was talking about. She’d called him Sean—not a common name in this part of the West. Suddenly it hit her and she spun toward the table. “You don’t mean Sean Murphy?”

  Laura’s stark expression was all the answer she needed. Annie thought fondly of the jovial Irishman she’d seen at town socials. His red hair and teasing green eyes resembled Rusty’s. “But he’s so nice, and he’s funny. How could you not love him?”

  Clasping her fingers together, Laura ducked her head. “I never said I didn’t love him—just that I couldn’t marry him.”

  For the first time, Annie understood the personal sacrifice her friend had made to help blind children. She rested her hand on Laura’s shoulder. “You’ve been a tremendous blessing to these youngsters and given them a chance to live a better life than they could have otherwise. They may still be locked in darkness, but you’ve provided them a map—a way to survive and reach beyond the restraints of their blindness. And you’ve given every one of them a self-confidence they didn’t have before coming here.”

  Laura drew in a slow breath and exhaled loudly. “Thank you. I honestly don’t regret my choice, but every once in a while I get to missing Sean, especially after I’ve seen him in town.”

  “I’m glad you told me, because it helps me to understand you better.” Annie hugged Laura’s shoulders from behind and laid her head against Laura’s back. “So did Sean ever marry?”

  A squeal sounded from the schoolroom, and something crashed against the floor. Annie spun around, and Laura jumped up. “I’d better see to that.”

  Annie carried her barely touched breakfast to the kitchen. Laura may have avoided answering her question about Sean just now, but she’d have to respond sooner or later, if Annie kept asking—and she would. A soft knock drew her to the front door. Before opening it, she took a steadying breath and prepared her expression. Laura’s one condition on her staying at the school when she had first arrived was for Annie to pretend to be blind when others came around. Their school’s benefactor had been adamant that no sighted children could stay there, but Laura had desperately needed help and knew how badly Annie needed a home.

  Forcing her eyes to relax, she opened the door. “Yes? Can I help you?”

  The man’s dingy appearance took her by surprise, and she had to work hard not to peer up into his face. Avoid eye contact, Laura had often told her, but one peek at his amazingly blue eyes, and she wanted another glimpse. The man twisted a battered hat in his hands.

  “I … uh … is Laura Wilcox here?”

  Amazed that this ruffian knew her friend enough to use her first name, Annie lifted her head. She caught herself and focused on the half-inch of dark stubble on his chin. Cleaned up, the man might even be handsome, though he was terribly thin. Whoever he was, Laura certainly didn’t have time to mess with him. “She’s busy.”

  “Oh.” The disappointment in the man’s voice was almost tangible, but not enough to make Annie waver. For one thing, he smelled too bad for her to invite him in. It would take days to rid the room of his stench.

  The hat crumpled more where his large hands crushed it. “I was … maybe …” He glanced over his shoulder then straightened his stance. “I noticed the fence around the yard had some broken places. Thought maybe I could repair it, so the children won’t accidentally get out onto the road where they could get hurt.”

  His concern for the children softened a small place in her heart, but men rarely expected nothing when they offered to do a favor. She learned that a long time ago. “And what would you want in return?”

  He hung his head, as if ashamed to request anything, and shuffled from foot to foot. He shrugged, then lifted his head and sniffed the air. “Something sure smells good in there. If you have anything leftover from breakfast, I sure could use a bit of home cooking.”

  That was an understatement if she ever heard one. He was tall with wide shoulders, although he could certainly stand to put on some weight. His worn clothes hung loose. Annie didn’t want to feel sorry for this man, but she, more than anyone, knew what it was like to go hungry. “I suppose that would be all right.”

  The man’s grateful gaze caught her eye. His were a beautiful deep blue, the color of the sky just before twilight. She realized he was staring into hers, and her heart jolted, and she forced a blank look. “If you’ll go around back, I’ll have Mrs. Alton bring you a plate, then you can see to the fence. There are some tools in the barn, and I believe there may be some extra fence rails alongside of it.”

  “Thank you, miss. I’m beholdin’.” He backed up, but then paused, standing there facing her so long that she was certain he had noticed her mistake. Finally, he turned and walked across the porch. Annie closed the door and leaned back against it, her heart pounding. Could he tell she could see?

  Lying and deceiving folks was the only part of her life that she hated. No one in Waco knew she could see. She despised the looks of sympathy shot toward her and the children from well-meaning folks, but even worse, were the jeers and cruel imitations some of the older boys made. They had walked around, laughing and waving their hands, bumping into things. Several times she’d witnessed their foolish behavior, and it had taken everything within her not to scowl and walk up to those youths and give them what for. But she couldn’t.

  At least the stranger at the door had respected the need to keep the youngsters safe. She’d better inform Mrs. Alton before the man showed up at the back door and scared her half to death. She crossed the parlor and realized she’d forgotten to ask the man’s name.

  Oh well, he wouldn’t be here for long.

  She peeked in the classroom to the right of the parlor. Things were quiet now, and Laura was reading them the morning Scripture.

  In the kitchen, she emptied the cart. “Mrs. Alton, is there any food left from breakfast?”

  The older woman smiled. “Did my pancakes not fill you up today?”

  She glanced at the open back door, not wanting the woman to read the truth in her eyes. Mrs. Alton was the only person besides Laura who knew Annie could see, and although she didn’t tolerate lying, for Laura’s sake she’d kept the secret all these years. “It’s not for me. A drifter came to the door. A soldier, I suspect.”

  Mrs. Alton spun around. “And you offered to feed him?”

  Annie lifted her chin, as if the invitation wasn’t so unusual. “In exchange for some work on his part.”

  “Fine by me, as long as we have enough. Though we do tend to run short at times.” The woman shook her head. “I don’t understand why Mr. Morrow hasn’t sent his monthly draft. I sure hope it arrives soon.”

  Annie didn’t have to ask why. The school depended on the support from its generous benefactor, Charles Morrow, and the occasional donation of food from local farmers and ranchers. At least the kind ladies from Waco and other nearby towns kept the children in clothing, not an easy task for six growing youngsters who had more than their fair share of falls.

  The man knocked on the back door, pulling Annie from her thoughts. His face was damp from a fresh scrubbing, and the hope in his hungry gaze as he glanced toward the plate in Mrs. Alton’s hand caused a niggle of guilt to slither down Annie’s spine. She pretended to feel her way to the coffeepot and poured him a cup, then slowly walked to the door.

  He stepped forward. “I can take that, ma’am.”

  Annie scowled. Did he think her helpless because he thought she couldn’t see?

  He took the cup from her hand, and Annie nearly leapt back at the reaction that gushed through her just from his fingers touching hers. She covertly glanced down at her fingertips, which felt singed. What in the world?

  Mrs. Alton hand
ed him the plate. “You can have a seat there at my workable.”

  “Much obliged, ma’am, but I don’t mind standing.” He downed the coffee in two large swigs, eyes shut and brows lifted. “Mmm … you don’t know how good real coffee tastes after drinking that nasty stuff the army served us.”

  “So you’re a soldier, eh?”

  He nodded, and Annie all but rolled her eyes. Wasn’t that obvious by the tattered wool trousers he wore and the belt buckle with CSA embossed on it? She knew the letters stood for “Confederate States of America.” Even though many Texans were opposed to slavery, Texas seceded from the Union and entered the conflict as a slave state. She was thankful that few battles had been waged on Texas soil and that the children had never been in danger.

  Mrs. Alton cocked her head and watched the soldier wolf down his pancakes. She tapped her finger against her lips. “Don’t I know you, son?”

  “Could be.” He stopped eating and stared back for a moment, his expression remaining somber. “I’m Raleigh Morgan, ma’am. But most folks call me Riley.”

  Morgan? Why did that name sound familiar?

  Mrs. Alton pressed her hand against her chest. “Of course, I recognize you now. Bless your heart. My name’s Bertie Alton, and your mama was a good friend of mine. I’m so sorry for your loss.”

  Annie turned sideways, dragging her gaze carefully back to Mr. Morgan, who just stood there, staring into his plate. He must be the son of the man and woman who’d been killed in that Comanche attack at the first of the year. Had he known about his parents’ deaths before returning home?

  He ducked his head, eyes closed, as if struggling to regain his composure. He cleared his throat. “Thank you, ma’am. It was quite a shock to find out they were gone.”

  Mrs. Alton stepped forward, distress etching her gaze. “Didn’t nobody write and tell you about them?”

  A muscle in the man’s cheek twitched. “No, ma’am. I didn’t know until yesterday. Not till I got home.” Annie leaned back against the cabinet, feeling his pain. Imagine returning from war, excited to see one’s family again, only to discover they were gone. Dead.