Chase the Wind (2 page)

Her mother came around to the front of the chair and knelt in
front of Faith. She gathered the girl’s slender hands in her own and
caressed the pale skin that so resembled hers. She looked up into
her daughter’s face and saw there all the hopes and dreams that
she had lost. “Faith, you will have lots of men courting you, and
they will make all kinds of promises, but when you meet the man
you love, the man you should marry, you will know by his kiss
that he is the one.”

Faith made a face at the thought of kissing any man. Her mother reached her hand up to stroke the skin of her porcelain cheek. “My
darling girl, when the man you love kisses you, you will feel it
down in your very soul, and you will know he is the one.”

“What will it feel like in my soul?” Faith asked, her curiosity awakened. Her mother got a faraway look in her pale blue eyes,
and a smile came over her face. “Your toes will curl,” she said with
a soft smile.

Faith looked at her mother as if she had lost her mind, then she
looked down at her own toes, encased in a pair of blue satin shoes.
Her mother’s laughter bubbled up, and Faith put her hands over
her mouth. She had never heard her mother laugh before, at least
not like this, not with spontaneity and spirit. Her mother pulled her close and hugged her. Then her laughter was gone, as fast as it had come. “Faith, when you find the man you love, don’t ever
let him go. Promise me.”

Faith wondered why her mother sounded so desperate. “I prom
ise, Momma.”

Six weeks later her mother was dead from a fall down the back
stairs. Faith tried as hard as she could to imagine what it was like
to feel a kiss in her soul, but as she had never seen her parents kiss
at all, she had no reference to go by.

That all changed five years later when she met Ian Duncan. She
had been walking to her father’s mercantile to pick up a few items
when she first saw him. He was riding down the road on the back of a tall chestnut and leading a group of fine mares. He had caught her attention because he was whistling “Good King Wenceslas” and Christmas was still quite a few weeks away. The mares were beautiful, with gleaming coats and fine lines, and were only outmatched by the chestnut, which seemed determined to break into a trot. The hands on the reins were steady, however, and the chestnut did as he was told. She stood at the side of the road to admire the animals, her hand shielding her eyes from the morning sun, as the chestnut stopped before her. The rider pulled his hat off, pushed a handful of copper hair back off his forehead and flashed a cocky grin at her.

“Excuse me, miss, but I am looking for the Mason estate,” he said, his voice deep and strong. Faith took a step to the right so that the sun was behind his body and found herself looking up into the bluest eyes she had ever seen. A moment passed while she seemed to consider his question, and she realized that she was grinning right back at him.

“Follow the river road; it’s around five miles north of here, on the right. You can’t miss it; it’s the biggest house around,” she finally managed to say. The hair had fallen back over his eyes and he pushed it away again before he clamped his hat down firmly to keep the hair in place.

“Thank you, Miss ...” he said, the inquiry plain on his face.

“Taylor. Faith Taylor. My father owns the mercantile,” she replied and wondered why she couldn’t seem to control the stupid grin that had taken over her face.

“Ian Duncan at your service, Miss Taylor. I’m here to help the Masons develop their breeding stock.” He motioned to the string of horses waiting behind him. “These are some of the best that Richmond has to offer.”

Faith took a step towards the group. “They’re beautiful. May I?” she asked, holding her hand out to indicate she would like to take a closer look.

“Go ahead, they’re tame. I raised them myself.” Faith heard the pride in his voice as she reached out to stroke the neck of the fine-boned bay mare that had stepped up next to her. The soft brown eyes were full of intelligence, and she noticed the ears were turned towards the man in the saddle as he spoke. “Do you ride, Miss Taylor?”

“Yes, I love to, although I don’t have a riding horse. I’m afraid
my father travels strictly by carriage.”

“Tis a shame. This one would be perfect for you.”

“Yes, she would,” Faith replied as she stroked the velvety nose.
The mare made soft whuffing sounds and nudged Faith’s hand when she stopped. Ian laughed at the mare’s antics, and Faith
looked up at him. She realized that she didn’t hear laughter enough
and his was wonderful. It made her want to laugh, too, and she didn’t know why. Her cheeks felt hot, and she wondered if they were flushed. The mare was shaking her head up and down, and
Faith took a step back. For the life of her, she didn’t know what
she should say next and realized that she was perfectly content to stand there in the road talking to a stranger about breeding horses. He must think her an absolute wanton. Meanwhile, he was still looking down on her with that cocky grin on his face. Faith strug
gled to get her own face under control. She stepped back and shielded her eyes again. “It shouldn’t take you long to find the
place.”

“It sounds easy enough.” He tipped his hat and gathered the
reins. “I’ll be staying at their place for the next few months; perhaps
I’ll see you again.”

“It’s a small town, Mr. Duncan, I’m sure we will run into each
other.”

“I’m sure we shall.” He made a slight motion with his knees, and the chestnut started up the road. Faith stood watching his progress,
and he turned around and gave her a wave. The whistling started again, and Faith softly hummed the tune along with him. She
watched until he disappeared around a bend in the road.

Chapter Two

Faith rolled up on her side, her hand still clutching a comer of the
quilt. The frown that had creased her face was gone, replaced by
a peaceful smile. She was drifting into sleep, images of Ian flashing
through her mind.

The next time she had seem him was Sunday morning at church.
He had come in around ten minutes late, which turned several
heads. She stole a glance at him from her seat in the fourth pew, and he flashed a grin at her. His hair was slicked back with water,
and his blue eyes twinkled with laughter. Faith looked down at
her gloved hands so no one would see her own wide grin, which
she was having trouble suppressing. She looked sideways at Miriam
and saw the tic that hit the comer of her mouth when she was
annoyed.

“Please, God,” Faith began to pray, and then realized she didn’t have any idea what she was praying for. She took a deep breath to steady her nerves and decided to try concentrating on the sermon.

I
wonder why he
is
here,
she thought as the minister droned on. Surely
he’s not here to see me.
The idea made her cheeks burn, and
she decided the tip of her shoe needed instant perusal. After a moment she raised her head and quickly glanced over her shoul
der. The grin flashed again, and beside her the corner of Miriam’s
mouth twitched angrily. Faith crossed her arms and grabbed her
elbows. She felt as if something in her was going to overflow, and
it took every bit of her willpower to sit calmly listening to the minister while her insides were turning cartwheels.

Finally, after an eternity, the sermon was over, the last hymn sung and the congregation was making its way towards the door. Faith caught the back of a copper-colored head above the mass filing down the aisle. Ian stopped to shake the minister’s hand and
pushed his hair back before putting on his hat. The hair had flashed
with gold when the autumn sun hit it, and Faith felt as if the same sun had gone behind a cloud when Ian’s head disappeared from
view. She looked at the ponderous backside of Mrs. Johnson, who was blocking her way. Behind her, Miriam and her father were
engaged in conversation with the Masons. Mrs. Johnson turned to
say something to her husband, and Faith took advantage of the
small opening and squeezed through. She managed to miss the
minister by timing her exit with the introduction of Mary Higgins’s
new fiancé and was out the door. She flew down the steps and
skidded to a halt in the road, looking left and right to see where
he had gone. Her ears caught a hint of a whistle, and she bounded across to where the carriages were waiting. He was there, standing
by the chestnut, the reins in his hand. She stopped suddenly, her
skirts billowing out at her sudden halt.

“I went to the wrong church,” he said.

“What?” she asked, suddenly embarrassed by her pursuit of him.

“I was late because I figured you for a Presbyterian.” He motioned
to the left, where up the road the Presbyterians were still inside
worshiping. “When you didn’t show up, I thought I’d try here.”

“No, we’re Methodists to the bone.”

“And what do Methodists to the bone do after they’re done wor
shiping?” he asked, his blue eyes suddenly intense.

“Some of us have been known to take a book and quilt down
by the river so as not to disturb older folks’ Sunday afternoon nap,” she said. The corners of her mouth lifted in a smile and her dimples
flashed.

“Sounds like a pleasant way to spend an afternoon. Perhaps I
should try it.”

“There’s a lovely place off the river trail near a grove of hem
locks.”

He effortlessly swung up in the saddle. The grin flashed, and he
tilted his hat. “It doesn’t sound hard to find.”

An hour later Faith flew out the back of her house with her
mother’s quilt and a book of poetry under her arm. She had made
an appearance at dinner, but her father and Miriam were so dis
tracted that they hardly knew she was there. They actually seemed
relieved when she asked to be excused and said she wanted to get out and enjoy the day before winter set in. They had their heads
together in the drawing room when she came flying down the
stairs, and Miriam didn’t even frown at her for rushing about. As
soon as she got behind the barn, she broke into a run. She came upon the Ohio a few minutes later and turned north. Some ten
minutes later she reached a bend to the left where a grove of hem
locks grew on the bank.

He was there, sitting on the bank. Apparently, he had eaten his dinner there, for the remains were lying beside him. The chestnut was browsing among the trees, the reins dangling from the bridle. Ian stood up when she came into the clearing and dusted his hands down the sides of his pants. Faith walked up to him and tilted her
head up. She hadn’t realized how tall he was. He reached out for
the quilt and spread it on the bank, kicking the remains of his meal out of the way as he did so. When the quilt was spread to his satisfaction, he held out his hand to her and with a courtly bow indicated that she should sit. Faith giggled and daintily stepped on
the quilt. As she settled down, her skirts and petticoats billowed out around her. Ian came down beside her with her hand still gripped in his. Her skin glowed like a pearl against the bronze color of his, and she marveled at how fragile her hand looked in
his big one. He could crush it if he wanted to. A million thoughts
raced through her mind. He could murder her and dump her in
the river and no one would know it, but here she sat on the banks of the Ohio with a complete stranger who had the gentlest hands,
the bluest eyes and the cockiest grin she had ever seen.

They spent the afternoon talking about everything. They shared
stories about their lives, shared the grief of losing parents, and
talked about their dreams. Ian wanted to go west and breed horses on his own land. He lived as cheaply as he could, over his employer’s stable, so he could save enough money to buy a stud. He had his eye on one now, a four-year-old he had raised from birth. Faith marveled at his outlook on life. His conversation was witty,
and she found herself laughing time and time again. Occasionally
she caught him gazing at her with a serious look in those deep
blue eyes, and she felt absolutely helpless. The afternoon flew by,
and as the sun dipped behind the trees across the river a chill
entered the air. Ian pulled Faith to her feet and wrapped the quilt
around her shoulders.

“I don’t suppose your father would let a stable hand call on you?”
he asked, the hair falling into his eyes again.