The Kissing Tree (18 page)

As she stepped back and reached for the brush, Georgie grabbed her hand again for a moment.

“Thank you, Sammy. Thank you for being here for me.”

“What are best friends for?” Samantha asked, smiling.

“Grandad!”

Georgiana walked over to the edge of the corral on the south side of the barn. Her grandfather looked up from his examination of the new colt. Georgiana smiled. Two new colts had been born in the last several weeks, one just shortly after she had arrived, and now this other one barely a week ago. Both were fillies, a blue roan and a black. She knew her grandfather was pleased. She watched as he sauntered over to the fence to greet her. Though he wore a smile, she could tell by the faraway look in his eyes that he had been thinking of her grandmother again.

Nana McLaughlin had possessed a great love and skill for working with horses. In Ireland, her father had raised and trained champion bloodlines and Shannon had inherited his great talent. Though they hadn’t made it their livelihood, her grandmother had continued breeding and training horses when she and Angus began the cattle ranch. Those she bred had good bloodlines too and were proven stock. They were well sought after in the area for many years. These two colts would be the last her grandmother had a hand in breeding.

Georgiana watched as her grandfather brushed a few loose strands of hair off his forehead. Even at his age, it was still thick, showing only a sprinkling of gray. Grandmother had always been the one to cut his hair, and it was long overdue for a trim. He’d either have to make a trip to the barber soon, or she’d have to try her hand at cutting it.

She imagined he’d been a considerably handsome man in his youth. Her father had been a younger version of this wonderful man, and surely her father’s good looks bore testament to the truth of it. Even though Granddad was soon approaching his sixty-fifth birthday, he was more than a fine specimen in any woman’s eyes. She wondered if he would ever take a fancy to one of the widows in town. She didn’t doubt a few had already taken a fancy to him. The pleasant sound of Mrs. Swansen’s voice came to mind.

It hadn’t really been long enough, though, since he’d lost the love of his life, and she suspected it would be some time before he could look at another woman with any romantic notions. Georgiana was grateful she was with him now to offer whatever comfort she could.

She smiled as he finished ambling over to where she stood waiting.

◁ ◊ ▷

Angus warmed at the sight of his granddaughter.

“Hello, Georgie girl. What brings ye out in the wee hours of the mornin’?”

“I went to bed too early last night, Grandad, so I woke up restless long before the roosters did. I thought it would be a nice change to take a walk before breakfast.” Georgiana pulled her shawl a little tighter around her. “I didn’t think about it being so cool out,” she said, shivering slightly.

“It’ll warm up soon enough. Take heart,” Angus replied optimistically.

He knew a certain cowhand that could warm his granddaughter up well enough if she was willing. At that thought, a plan took root in his mind.

“Any of the men up yet?” she asked casually.

“Surely, ye haven’t forgotten that mornin’ . . .”

“. . . comes early on a cattle ranch.”

He chuckled softly as she finished his sentence. “I haven’t forgotten,” she assured him.

Angus reached down, picked a blade of sweet grass, and began chewin’ on it thoughtfully. “Lookin’ for anyone in particular?” he questioned her.

“Why would you think that?” she answered, eyeing him curiously.

“No reason. Just wonderin’ what ye have on yar mind.”

“What I have on my mind is taking a walk. What’s on your mind, Grandad?” she replied, needling him for an answer. She suspected he was up to something. When he stared at her innocently, she changed the subject. “Incidentally, one of the men told me you weren’t planning on coming to the social tonight.” As he nodded, she added, “There’s sure to be more than a few disappointed ladies if you don’t make an appearance, at least.”

“I’m feelin’ a bit too old these days to be a dancin’ and a socializin’. Besides, I never really liked them shindigs much. Only went to be pleasin’ yar grandmother.”

Georgiana was quiet for a moment, and he waited patiently. Suddenly she asked, “Where’s Dawson about this morning? Is he up yet?”

Angus quickly hid his disappointment. He had hoped she’d been wondering about someone else altogether.

“To be sure,” he replied. “Good lad, that fella. Been helpin’ out ’round here as much as he is able. When he isn’t with ye, that is.” He was indeed a good sort. Would do right by his girl were he the lad she were to be choosing. “Headed out ’bout an hour ago with Tiny,” he finally told her.

“Well,” Georgiana said, looking at him purposefully. He was certain she was contemplating inquiring about Ridge’s whereabouts, but she didn’t ask. “I suppose I should be on my way or breakfast will be late,” she finally announced, sounding somewhat unsure. Turning away from him, she walked in the direction of the meadow.

“Georgie,” he quickly called after her. Grabbing the empty bucket he had just fed the horses oats in, Angus held it out to her and tried not to grin. “Why don’t ye take a walk over by the crick this mornin’? Saw me some bushes of wild berries plum overloaded last week not too far down. I ’spect they ought to be about ripe by now. If the critters haven’t got to them, that is. Would make an awfully tasty pie, come Sunday,” he added, looking hopeful.

She smiled at him endearingly and took the bucket from his hand. He quickly suppressed the sudden guilt he felt as she kissed him on the cheek and headed toward the creek whistling merrily. It had not been much more than a half hour ago he had talked Ridge into heading over to the creek to catch him a few trout, since he’d been assigned lunch duty again.

Georgiana had offered to spend the day helping the Wallaces get everything finished up for the social tonight. If he was going to have to cook lunch, he was going to fill his hankering for grilled trout. Leastways, it was something he knew how to cook. After watching his granddaughter until she turned from his view, he walked back over to the new colt.

“Oh, Shannon, she is a beaut, ain’t she? Just look at her.” Glancing briefly back down the lane, he snickered for a moment. “Now ye can’t blame me for meddlin’. Those two lovesick pups need a little nudge. That there Dawson’s a good lad, but I’ve felt a long time Georgie and Ridge were belongin’ to each other. ’Tis a match made in heaven, just like ye and I were.” Suddenly he sighed, deep and long. “ ’Tis missin’ you I am, Shannon, me dear. Havin’ our bonnie girl home this last little while has surely been easin’ my pain a bit, but the nights are so long without ye in me arms.”

Giving the colt one last pat, he watched her trot to her mother. He headed back toward the house, pondering further on his granddaughter. When Jonas came back down from town yesterday, he’d handed him a post from Ms. Cecelia Harrington herself. She had demanded to know when he would be sending her niece back home. When he’d written Charlotte asking her to send Georgiana until he could find some permanent help, he hadn’t held out much hope. To his everlasting surprise, he’d received a return post from Charlotte saying she would send Georgiana as soon as he sent the funds for the trip, since her aunt had refused to pay for it. He had mailed it that day. He was supposed to be trying to find a permanent cook and housekeeper, but none of that mattered anymore. Angus smiled secretly to himself, remembering the telegram he’d received over a week ago.
At last,
he thought.

His mind quickly returned to Charlotte’s sister, and his smile fell away. Cecelia Harrington had never forgiven Charlotte for running off and marrying his son.
The poor son of an Irish immigrant,
she would call him in her letters. It was true he was an immigrant. He and Shannon had come to America when Michael was but fourteen years old. They had all traveled across the ocean together, his young family, father, mother, and brother Brody with his young wife. When they arrived, the war between the North and South over slavery had just ended. They saw much destruction as they worked their way across the states. When they reached Colorado, Angus’s mother said it was as green and lovely as the rolling hills of Ireland, so Angus’s father purchased enough land to run cattle on. Angus, his father, and his brother had worked hard to build it up and make it into a successful working ranch, and they’d made themselves a pretty decent living.

After their parents passed on, Brody decided to head farther west to California. On their way, the wagon train had been attacked, and his wife and two young daughters had been killed. Brokenhearted, Brody had gone back to Ireland.

Angus was the only one left here in America, except Charlotte and his grandchildren, and up until now, Cecelia had managed to take them away.

Well, Angus had half a mind to write her back, give her an earful—a written one anyway. He had a few hard questions for the woman. From what he could tell, she had been less than honest with both his daughter-in-law and his granddaughter. Angus stopped to calm his raging emotions before opening the door to the house. He would bide his time a little longer and see what would become of this new development. Maybe when all was said and done, he’d finally be able to forget Ms. Cecelia Harrington for good.

◁ ◊ ▷

It didn’t take Georgiana long to find the wild berry bushes her grandfather had spoken of. The bushes had indeed been filled with big ripe berries, more than she could fit in her bucket. She would have to return on Monday and pick the last of them. She would make them into some jam her grandfather and the men could enjoy during the winter months.

Popping a plump berry in her mouth, she walked over to the creek, took off her shoes, and sat down on a large stone that overhung the water’s edge. Easing her feet slowly into the water, she sighed contentedly as the water rushed over her bare skin. The temperature had been dropping steadily as fall set in, so the water was cool, but it felt especially good on her wound. She pulled her hurt foot out and examined her cut. It was healing nicely, though it was still painful to walk on. She figured she wouldn’t be able to do much dancing tonight. Dawson was sure to be disappointed.

The thought of Dawson made her think back to her discussion with Samantha the day before. It had certainly given her some things to consider concerning both Dawson and Ridge.

When she had come down from Samantha’s room to meet back up with Dawson, she tried not to look at him directly. She didn’t want him to notice the redness of her eyes and the splotchy tone of her face. He had noticed anyway, but when he questioned her about it, she had brushed him off by mumbling something about missing her mother and two little brothers.

After supper, she had gone straight to bed. She was exhausted, more emotionally than physically, and was certain she would not sleep well, for the troubled thoughts that plagued her. Surprisingly, she had fallen asleep quickly and slept soundly.

Georgiana put her foot back in the creek. Reaching up, she unpinned her hair and began running her fingers through it absentmindedly as she watched a cluster of colorful leaves that had fallen in the water float downstream. If only she had time to get her easel and paint the scene. She would have to remember this spot for later.

The water was so clear she could see the fish swimming around on the bottom. When a rather large trout got spooked and swam off, something shiny wedged between a couple of rocks caught her eye. She pulled her feet out of the water and crouched on the edge of the stone to get a closer look. The water made the stone rather slippery, so she braced her hands tightly onto an edge that was not wet.

It almost looked like . . . a chain of some sort.
It couldn’t be, could it?
she thought incredulously. She had lost it so long ago. Quickly standing up, she looked about her for a stick to help her fish it out. Finding one she thought would do, she crouched down on the stone again. Her foot slipped slightly, but thankfully she caught herself.

Reaching down with the stick, she carefully poked at the shiny thing until she managed to get the end wrapped around the stick a little. Holding her breath, she slowly began to lift it from the water. Just before it broke the water’s surface, it unfortunately slipped back off the stick and fell to the bottom again.

“Blast!” The word was out of her mouth before she could think. She didn’t make a habit of swearing, and even though she was alone, she couldn’t help but look around self-consciously to see if she’d been heard.

Working the stick again, she managed once more to wind the chain around its end. This time, when she lifted it toward the surface, she reached out with her other hand ready to snatch it should it begin to fall.

“Steady,” she coached herself. “Just a little farther . . . almost.” It was starting to unwind itself. Quickly she tried to bring the stick toward her outstretched hand before it fell. She almost had it when suddenly her foot began to slip. She tried to stand up to right herself, but that only put her further off balance, so she crouched back down, attempting to grab hold of the edge of the stone.

It all happened so quickly.

Just as she thought she had secured herself, her foot slipped back once more, propelling her head first into the creek. Her face met the cool water, shocking the breath out of her. Next, her legs and feet flew over and down, resulting in a none too graceful somersault. As her backside hit the creek bottom, her head popped back out of the water, just above the surface.

Her long hair now hung tangled and wet in front of her face, so she was startled when she heard something come splashing toward her. Next thing she knew, someone had grabbed her by the arms and lifted her up to stand on wobbly legs.

Still coughing and sputtering, she brushed her hair back from her face and looked up to see Ridge standing before her in the water. He was soaked almost to the waist with a concerned look on his face.

Immediately upset that once again she had humiliated herself in front of him, she roughly shrugged her arms out of his firm grasp.

“What are you doing here?” she asked him angrily.

Quickly his face went from concerned to one she was sure could rival her own.