Amelia's Journey (11 page)

“Amelia's not like that. She's free-spirited and does what she feels like doing.” Steve's words did give him something else to consider. Life out here wouldn't be all horseback rides and flower gardens. Could Amelia do all the work that came with running a household?

Steve regarded him seriously. “You'd better think long and hard about bringing a girl all the way out here if she doesn't know anything about life on a ranch.”

Steve had a point, and that was why getting her family to visit the ranch had become so important. If, after she visited, Amelia decided this life wasn't for her, he'd have to accept the fact and move on. However, in his heart he believed she'd love it and would be the best wife a man could hope for.

Steve shook his head. “I think it's time for some of that coffee. Seems the cold air has muddled your brain, but maybe some of Cook's coffee will clear it.”

Ben didn't know about clearing his head, but it would sure warm his insides. He swung down from Blackie and accepted a tin cup. He wrapped his hands around it and raised it to his lips. The hot liquid slid down his throat. He'd ridden out in the night to seek answers but only wound up with more doubts. God knew the answer, but He wasn't revealing His plans this night.

After the evening performance Philip assisted Amelia up into the carriage and followed her. Once they were settled, he folded his arms across his chest and peered at her. “Well, what did you think of the play?”

“Interesting, and well acted.”

Before she could add anything further, Philip launched into another long dissertation about his family, one of several during the course of the evening. “You know my parents are patrons of the arts. They are on the boards of several organizations looking to bring the best in culture to our city. They long for us to have a symphony orchestra, but Mother says that is still some years in the future. Seems that people in Boston are quite conservative when it comes to entertainment at the present. If you ask me, the old guard of Boston would ban everything that brings any pleasure if they could have their way.”

Amelia would have to agree with him on that point, but then some conservatism never hurt anyone, and it kept some out of trouble for sure. He didn't give her an opportunity to respond and continued on with his ideas and feelings. He'd already told Amelia how much his father enjoyed working with her father on certain projects, and his mother was quite fond of Mrs. Carlyle as a friend.

Amelia tuned out the words. For such a handsome young man, Philip was certainly a bore. All he talked about was himself and his family and their wealth and prestige. The only time he'd asked about her had been that brief question as to how she liked the play. He never asked about her ideas or what she liked. Like most men, he assumed she would marry and carry on the traditions of one of Boston's elite.

The carriage came to a stop, and Amelia breathed a sigh of thanksgiving to be home at last. Philip alighted first then assisted her down from the carriage. He escorted her to the front door. “This has been a most delightful evening, Miss Carlyle. May I have the pleasure of calling on you tomorrow afternoon?”

A negative response almost slipped out, but she remembered her promise to her father in time and nodded. “Yes, that will be acceptable.”

He grinned and bowed. “Then I shall look forward to seeing you again. Thank you, Miss Carlyle.”

Amelia said goodnight to Philip and closed the door behind him. She sighed and leaned against the leaded glass panel. Tonight had been enjoyable to a degree, but not the most exciting one she'd experienced.

How different was Ben from this stiff, egotistic young man who had just left. Ben asked her opinion and how she felt about life. He cared about her. If only Papa would look at the good qualities in Ben and not at the distance he lived from Boston, he would find a level-headed young man who knew what he wanted out of life.

Amelia raced up the stairway to the landing but paused to walk sedately past her parents' closed door. No need to make noise and disturb them. Besides, she didn't want to discuss with them her evening with Philip.

In her room she flopped on the bed, giving no mind to the formal dress she wore. She slipped off her shoes and wiggled her toes in their white stockings. She grinned at the memory of the wedding and Ben's finding her shoeless at her table. He hadn't minded at all. Ben's easy manner had made the years disappear and renewed their friendship.

No matter what Papa and Mama wanted from her for the future, she'd never forget Ben. Her feelings for him made her feel good, but at the same time they hurt and left her with many unanswered questions. Were her feelings for Ben strong enough to endure the opposition of those she held most dear, her own parents? As yet, she did not know.

Chapter 11

B
en reined his horse in and turned back toward the ranch. The herd was in good shape, and he wanted to get home for a hot meal and warm fire. The long, heavy wool coat he wore shielded the wind from his body, and thick wool socks protected his feet inside the leather boots, but the cold still penetrated to the very core of his being. Although no snow had fallen as yet, the November wind bit into his flesh like pellets of ice. Soon the land would be covered in the white powder, and that made taking care of the stock even more difficult.

Four other ranch hands rode ahead of him, heads and shoulders hunched against the biting wind. All were anxious to get to the bunkhouse and warm up. This had been a hard year with the drought following the grasshoppers of last year, but the major portion of the herd survived and would be ready for market come spring.

Three weeks had passed since he'd written his first letter to Amelia. After that night on the prairie, he'd come home and bared his heart to her. Her reply was folded and in the shirt pocket over his heart. He had read it to memorize the lines until the creases began to wear through.

She had not changed her mind at all about wanting to come to Kansas. Amelia mentioned very little of her activities, but his sister Mary Beth kept him informed along those lines. In addition, stories and anecdotes about her relationship with Andrew Farnsworth filled her letters. Ma worried that life in Boston would cause his sister to desire to remain there, and from what Ben had observed, Ma had every right to worry.

As long as Amelia didn't harbor any feelings toward the young men who called on her, the fact that she obeyed her father pleased him. She respected her father, and that spoke to her strong adherence to the foundations of her faith, even if it kept them apart until he could convince Mr. Carlyle he was worthy of Amelia.

When they approached the ranch house, he waved good-bye to the men and headed up to the house while they turned to the bunkhouse. He opened the door to the warmth spread by both the fireplace and the kitchen wood stove. Something smelled good too. If his nose didn't deceive him, Ma had used some of her dried apples to make a pie. His stomach rumbled in anticipation of the meal ahead.

Aunt Clara and Ma sat at the table cutting up potatoes for supper. Ma laid down her knife. “There's hot coffee on the stove. That should help take some of that chill off. Supper will be ready in a bit.”

He removed his long coat and hung it on a peg by the back door. “Thanks, Ma. I think we may have a hard freeze tonight.”

Grace Ann ran to hug him. “I didn't think you'd ever get back. Gideon, Billy, and I were so cold coming home from school. Gideon put extra blankets on the horses, and I'm sure glad he did.”

Ben hugged her and picked her up off the floor. “Well, aren't we the little magpie tonight. What has you so excited?” He set her down and tweaked one of her pigtails, the same dark color as Mary Beth's.

She giggled and ran to the dish cupboard. “Aunt Clara went into town after school and picked up the mail. You have one from Boston. Wonder who it's from?” She giggled again and handed him the envelope.

Amelia's name was written in the upper left corner, and his blood rushed warmth through his body. “Hmm, think I'll take this to my room and read it.”

Ma grinned and winked at Clara. “I'll call you when supper's ready.”

Pa greeted him in the hallway. “Glad you're back. How did things look?”

“Fine, Pa. There's plenty of feed, and they're all huddled together in the south section. That new barbed wire fence you used will keep them close together for the night. Think it might freeze hard.”

“I think so too. I'll go out with the men tomorrow, so you can stay here and take care of the livestock in the barn.” He glanced down at Ben's hands.

“That another letter from Amelia? You two have been writing a bit often, haven't you?”

“Yes, sir, we have, but we have a lot to say to each other since we can't be together in person.”

His father paused then nodded toward his office. “Come and let's talk.”

Ben noted the expression his father's face. He'd seen that look before, and following his father now would be the wise choice. One time he hadn't and wound up in the barn with a willow branch across his legs.

Ben joined his father in the office. Pa waved his hand toward a chair. “Have a seat, son; it's time to discuss Amelia Carlyle.”

Ben sat and then waited for Pa to speak his mind. It didn't matter what he had to say, Ben would not change his mind or his feelings for Amelia. Pa paced the floor, and Ben's hands itched to reach out and stop him. Why didn't he just say what was on his mind? Deciding to cut to the chase, Ben cleared his throat and spoke. “Pa, I love Amelia and want to marry her.”

“How can you be so sure? You were only together for such a short time.” Pa finally stopped and swerved around to face Ben in the eye. “There's more to love than just seeing a pretty girl and thinking you want to spend the rest of your life with her.”

“I know that, Pa. I've been thinking about Amelia a lot. We may not have much in common right now except how we feel about each other, but we come from the same stock, we enjoy being with each other, and we love each other.” Surely Pa could see that this wasn't infatuation or fascination but deep feelings for each other.

Pa sat down behind his desk, and a frown furrowed his brow. “Your ma has asked me to consider inviting the Carlyle family to Kansas in the spring. Perhaps that is the wise thing to do. You've only seen Amelia in her own environment. Seeing her here, on the ranch, may give you more insight into how she'd really make it living this far from her parents.” He rose and came around to Ben. “I'll invite them, but not until after the first of the year.”

Ben nodded. That's all he could ask for now, and it would be his one chance to show Amelia that living on a ranch wouldn't be so bad, especially if he could get that piece of land down by the mill. He'd wait and approach his father about that as soon as plans could be made for a house to go on it.

Ma wouldn't make any more trips east with snow and ice covering the states between here and Boston. The six months until spring now loomed as an eternity. He could only write to Amelia and continue to pray that her feelings for him would not change.

Maeleen had come with a message that Mama and Papa wished to see Amelia downstairs. Now she stood in front of the parlor doors, her hands icy cold and her heart skittering in its beats. All types of scenarios danced through her mind. Pa had learned of the many letters with Ben and would forbid their writing one another. Philip Barlow had spoken to father about more than courtship even after her turning down his last request to see her. That scenario shot slivers of fear into her soul. She bit her lip, and her hand hesitated over the door knob.

Better to get it over with and know the cause of the summons than stand here trying to guess. Amelia inhaled deeply then exhaled before opening the door and stepping into the parlor. “Papa, Mama, you wanted to see me?”

Papa glanced up from the newspaper in his hands, and Mama's crochet needle stilled. Papa beckoned her to come to his side.