Nora. Diana Palmer
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Barton,” she replied.
“Who are his people, I meant?” Nora persisted.
“We don’t know. We know his name, but we know very little about him. He works during the week and vanishes on weekends—that was in the contract he signed with Chester. We don’t pry into people’s lives out here,” she added gently. “He’s rather mysterious, but he’s not usually rude at all.”
“He wasn’t rude,” Nora lied, brushing at the dust on her cheeks to camouflage their color.
Helen smiled. “You would not have said so even if he was. You have breeding, my dear,” she said proudly. “It’s very evident that you come from blue bloods.”
“So do you,” she was reminded. “You and Mother are descended from European royalty. We have royal cousins in England, one of whom I visit twice a year.”
“Don’t remind Chester.” Helen laughed conspiratorially. “He comes from a laboring background, and mine sometimes embarrasses him.”
Nora had to bite her tongue to keep back a blunt comment. She couldn’t imagine hiding any part of her own life to placate a man’s ego. But, then, Aunt Helen had been raised in a different era, by different rules. She had no right to judge or condemn from her modern status.
“Shall we have tea and sandwiches?” Helen asked. “I’ll have Debbie bring refreshments to the living room after you’ve had a few minutes to freshen up.” Her nose wrinkled. “I must say, Nora, that is a very…odd scent you’re wearing.”
Nora flushed. “I…fell against Mr. Barton getting into the wagon and brushed my hand against some of that…vile material on his…on those leather things he was wearing,” she faltered.
“His chaps,” she said.
“Oh. Yes. Chaps.”
Helen chuckled. “Well, it is unavoidable that working men get dirty. It will wash off.”
“I do hope so,” Nora sighed.
The tall cowboy came back down the hall, his burdens unloaded.
Helen smiled at him. “Chester wanted to see you when you got back, Mr. Barton. He and Randy are working down by the old barn, trying to fix the windmill,” she added.
“I’ll put up the wagon and join him as soon as possible. Good day, ma’am.” He tipped his hat courteously at Helen.
He nodded politely at Nora, his eyes twinkling at her expression, and walked on toward the front door, his spurs jingling musically with every long, graceful step.
Helen was watching him. “Most cowboys are clumsy on the ground,” she remarked, “probably because they spend so much time on horseback. But Mr. Barton is not clumsy, is he?”
Nora watched, hoping that he’d trip over one of his spurs and knock himself out on the door facing. But he didn’t. She reached up and removed the hatpin that secured her wide hat. “Where is Melly?” she asked.
Helen hesitated. “In town, visiting a girlfriend. She will be back this evening.”
Nora was very puzzled as she changed her traveling clothes for a simple long skirt and white middy blouse and rewound her long chestnut braid around her head. Melly was only eighteen and she adored her older cousin. They were good friends. Why wasn’t Melly here to meet her?
She joined Helen in the parlor, and while they sipped tea and ate homemade lemon cookies, she asked about Melly again.
“She went riding with Meg Smith this afternoon, and I know she’ll be back soon. I might as well tell you the truth. She was in love with the man her best friend married, and she has been inconsolable. She couldn’t even refuse to be maid of honor at their wedding.”
“Oh, I am so sorry!” Nora exclaimed. “How terrible for Melly!”
“We pitied her, but it was fortunate that the man did not return her feelings. He had some admirable qualities, but he is not the sort we want to marry our daughter,” Aunt Helen said sadly. “Besides, Melly is sure to find someone more worthy to love. There are several bachelors who attend services with us every Sunday. Perhaps she might be encouraged to join a social group.”
“Exactly,” Nora said. “I’ll do my best to help her over this sad experience.”
“I knew you would,” came the satisfied reply. “It’s so good to have you here!”
Nora smiled affectionately at her aunt. “I am delighted that I came.”
MELLY RETURNED HOME barely an hour after Nora arrived, on horseback, wearing a riding skirt and a straight-brimmed Spanish hat. She had dark hair like Nora’s, but her hair didn’t have the same chestnut highlights as her cousin’s, and her eyes were a soft brown instead of blue. Her skin was tanned, as Nora’s was not, and she was delicate and very slender, like a little doll. Looking at her, Nora couldn’t imagine a man not wanting her for his wife.
“I’m so happy that you’ve come,” Melly said after she’d greeted her cousin with sad warmth. “I’ve been rather droopy, but you can help me liven things up.”
Nora smiled. “I hope that I can. It has been over a year since we visited when you came to Virginia. You must tell me all the news.”
Melly grimaced. “Of course. But you must realize that my life is hardly as full and exciting as yours. I will have little to tell.”
Nora thought of the times she had spent in bed, shivering with fever. Melly didn’t know—none of them knew—how her adventure in Africa had ended.
“Melly, I do wish that you would not make us sound so dull,” her mother murmured. “We do have some social life here!”
“We have square dances and housewarmings and spelling bees,” came the short reply. “And the abominable Mr. Langhorn and his son.”
“When we have gatherings with other ranchers in the cooperative, Melly helps serve,” her mother reminded Nora. “Mr. Langhorn is one of the local ranchers, and he has a little boy who is worse than a wild man. Mr. Langhorn does not control him.”
“Mr. Langhorn is the one who needs controlling,” Melly added with a chuckle.
“That is true,” her mother agreed. “He has a…reputation…and he is divorced,” she whispered the word, as if it were not fit to be heard in decent company.
“Surely that should not count against him,” Nora began.
“Nora, our family name is very important to us,” her aunt said firmly. “I know that in eastern cities, and in Europe, a woman is perhaps allowed more freedoms than out here. But you must remember that this is a small community, and our good name is our most treasured possession. It would not do for Melly to be seen keeping company with a divorced man.”
“I see what you mean,” Nora said gently, wondering just how confining this small society really was. Coming from a large eastern city, she was hard-pressed to understand small-town life anywhere.
After dinner they sat in a blissful silence, one so profound and serene that the grandfather clock could be heard vividly, tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock…
The screen door slammed suddenly and heavy boots made emphatic noises on the bare wood floor.
Cal Barton stuck his head around the door, his hat held in one hand. “Excuse me, Mrs. Tremayne, but Chester would like a word with you on the porch.”
Nora wondered why his spurs didn’t jingle until she looked down. Of course; his spurs were covered with…that. So was the rest of him, Nora thought, her expression revealing her opinion of it eloquently as she sat elegantly on the sofa in just the correct posture, looking so at home in the opulence that it put Cal’s back up at once.
He saw the disapproving, superior look she gave him, and it irritated him out of all proportion.