House On Windridge Read Online Free Page A

What would she do then? She had very little money with her and even less ambition to figure out how to arrange transportation to her father’s Windridge Ranch. No, she thought, it was her ranch now. Her father had died, and there was nothing more to be said about the situation. Still, she’d only been here on three other occasions, and the last time was over five years ago. She’d never know which way to go if she had to figure a way home for herself.
    Ryan finally cried himself out and fell asleep, but not until his slobbers and tears had drenched the front of Jessica’s plum-colored traveling suit. She couldn’t do anything about it now, she realized. Aunt Harriet had always said that a lady was known by her appearance. Was her attire in order? Was her carriage and walk upright and graceful? Jessica felt neither properly ordered, nor upright and graceful. She felt hot and tired and dirty and discouraged.
    â€œHere we are. This all you brought?” Buck asked, one huge trunk hoisted on his back, a smaller trunk tucked under one arm, and a carpetbag dangling from his hand. He turned to include the young boy who followed after him with two additional suitcases.
    â€œYes,” Jessica replied. “That’s everything.”
    Buck never condemned her for the multiple bags, never questioned why she’d needed to bring so much. Buck always seemed accepting of whatever came his way. Jessica didn’t know the man half as well as she would have liked to, but Buck was the kind of man she knew would have made a wonderful father.
    Buck stopped alongside a mammoth, stage-styled conveyance. Jessica watched, notably impressed, as Buck gently placed the trunk and bags up on the driver’s floor, then paused to hand her and Ryan up into the carriage. She arranged a pallet for Ryan by taking his blanket and one of the carriage blankets and spreading them out on the well-cushioned leather seats, while overhead Buck secured the baggage on top.
    The opulence and size of the carriage greatly impressed Jessica. No expense had been spared. In fact, it very much resembled an expensive stagecoach of sorts. The beautifully upholstered seats sported thick cushions, leaving Jessica with the desire to join Ryan in stretching out for her own nap. After four days on the most unaccommodating eastern trains, she found this a refreshing reprieve.
    Blankets were positioned on a rack overhead, as well as a lantern and metal box that she presumed held other supplies. Outside, she heard Buck instruct the boy to hand up his cases, then figured he must have tipped the boy for his actions when she heard the child let out a hearty, “Thanks, Mr. Buck.”
    â€œYou all settled in there?” Buck called out, sliding a window open from where he was on the driver’s seat.
    Jessica thought the window ingenious and nodded enthusiastically. “I’m ready. The baby is already sleeping comfortably.”
    â€œAll right, then. We’ll make for home. I know my Kate will be half beside herself for want of seeing you again.”
    Jessica smiled weakly and nodded. She could only wonder at what her reception might be when they learned she was coming to Windridge to stay.
    Since Buck had pulled shut the slide on the window, Jessica felt herself amply alone and reached inside her purse to pull out a letter. She’d only received the missive a week ago, but already it was wrinkled and worn. Kate had written to tell her of her father’s death. He’d suffered a heart attack, or so it was believed, and had fallen from his mount to his death. The doctor didn’t believe he suffered overmuch, and Jessica had been grateful for that.
    â€œWe’d love to have you home, Jessie,” the letter read. Kate was the only one who had ever called her Jessie. “Windridge is never the same without you. Now with your father gone and what with the death of your own husband, we’d like to be a family to you.