The Pattern of Her Heart (26 page)

Read The Pattern of Her Heart Online

Authors: Judith Miller

Tags: #FIC026000, #FIC014000

Captain Payne leaned forward and rested his elbows on his broad thighs. “And what would you do if we cancelled the entire contract and took none of your horses? Would you be equally willing to continue feeding and caring for all those horses, knowing you’ll not find anyone to purchase them given the state of the economy? Now, we’ve told you we need those horses, and we’ve also told you we cannot afford to pay the entire price for them. We need something from you other than hearing there’s nothing you can do!”

“To tell ya the truth, Captain, I could probably sell every one of those horses to the Virginia Military Institute for more money than we’ve ever received from West Point. But that’s na what I want ta do. I understand ya need the horses and I want to provide them to ya, but yar threats do na serve ya well.”

Captain Bradford sat down on the divan. “You’re right. I apologize for our behavior, but we’re placed in a difficult situation. We were told to return to the academy with a renegotiated contract for all of the horses.”

“Would it ease yar financial problems if we agreed to accept payment for the horses in installments rather than in a lump sum? Payment is already past due on the herd, but I’d be willing to accept half now and half upon delivery in the spring. I’m hopeful Mr. Houston will return by spring, and if further negotiation is needed, he may be willin’ to help ya further.”

The two men exchanged a glance; then Payne nodded and smiled. “I apologize for my heated behavior. You’ve done less than we hoped for but more than we expected. You’ve a good head for business, and Mr. Houston is fortunate to have you in his employ.”

Captain Bradford chuckled. “You should consider yourself highly complimented, Paddy. Captain Payne isn’t liberal with his praise.”

Paddy glanced toward the hallway and saw Kiara standing beside the parlor door. She winked and blew him a kiss. He could see the pride in his sister’s eyes, and his heart swelled at the sight.

“Are ya certain Kiara won’t mind if I’m comin’ along uninvited?” Mary Margaret asked for the second time since they’d departed the outskirts of town.

Bridgett gave her friend a stern frown. “How many times must I tell ya the same thing, Mary Margaret? Kiara’s not the type to think ya need an invitation in order to come visiting. Besides, it’s not as though we’re arriving unexpected. She knows Cullen and I are coming to pay a visit. She’ll be pleased to see ya. Won’t she, Cullen?”

“Aye,” Cullen replied while keeping a tight hold on the reins and his eyes fastened upon the narrow path.

Cullen had borrowed the horse and buggy from one of the men at work, and from all appearances, he didn’t have much experience handling either. The horse seemed to sense his anxiety and Mary Margaret thought the animal a wee bit skittish. She considered offering to take the reins, but Cullen might be offended by such a suggestion. So she clung to the side of the buggy and hoped the animal would trust its own instincts rather than Cullen’s direction with the reins, which she noted he was holding much too firmly.

As they neared the house, Cullen yanked back on one of the reins with such fierceness the horse turned sharply, nearly overturning their buggy.

Without thinking, Mary Margaret began issuing orders. “Quit pulling back with your right hand and loosen your hold on the reins,” she hollered, tempted to grab the reins from Cullen’s hands. However, her good sense prevailed and she refrained from such unacceptable behavior. When the buggy was finally turned aright and the horse had settled, they stepped out of the wagon. Mary Margaret couldn’t remember a time when she’d been so happy to be on solid ground.

“That didn’t go so well, did it?” Cullen asked with a sheepish grin.

“I think ya did mighty fine, don’t you, Mary Margaret?” Bridgett asked.

Mary Margaret knew she was expected to agree with her friend, yet she did not want to return to the city with Cullen McLaughlin handling the reins. “We’ve arrived safely, and for that I’m thankful. Are ya a wee bit afraid of horses, Cullen?” she inquired.

“I suppose ya can tell I’ve not been around animals very much.”

“Aye, but there’s no shame in that. Driving a horse takes a bit of instruction and practice, just like most things in life. I’d be pleased if ya’d consider permitting me to give you a bit of a lesson. In fact, if ya’d like, I could take the reins and teach you as we return.”

“Could ya now? I did na know you were an expert with the horses.”

“She’s an expert and that’s a fact,” Paddy said as he drew near.

Mary Margaret couldn’t tell if Paddy’s words were spoken as a compliment or if he meant to ridicule her, so she kept her attention focused upon Cullen.

“Before I came to Lowell, I was around horses a great deal of the time,” she told him. “My employer permitted me the use of his animals when I was not busy with my other duties, and I grew fond of them. I find them loyal and tolerant—unlike many humans.”

She noted Cullen’s glance toward Paddy before he answered. “I’d be pleased ta have ya give me a bit of instruction.”

“Then it’s settled,” Mary Margaret said.

Paddy gave her a broad smile. “Bridgett, I believe my sister is expecting ya in the parlor. Cullen, I told Rogan we’d join him in the small barn out back. He’s finishing up some carving for Liam. I believe he’s nearly as good as Liam, but he denies there’s any truth ta what I say.”

Bridgett grasped Mary Margaret’s hand, and they hurried toward the house while the men walked to the barn. Mary Margaret felt a sense of relief that the men were not joining them. She didn’t want to spend her Sunday afternoon sparring with the likes of Padraig O’Neill.

“Where are Nevan and Katherine?” Bridgett asked as they entered the neatly appointed parlor.

Evidence of Kiara’s skill with a needle adorned the room, and Mary Margaret wondered at the patience it must take to create such beautiful handwork.

“They’ve both gone to Simon and Maisie’s to visit Moses. Poor Moses has been so lonely with Spencer gone that he comes almost every evening and asks if Nevan and Katherine can come for a visit. Although I believe it an imposition, Maisie insists her life is much easier when Moses has the children to play with.”

“Children need one another for entertainment.” Bridgett took a good look at her friend. “Ya’re beginning to look a might uncomfortable.”

“Aye. Only a few months until this babe is born, and none too soon for my liking. I’m ready to hold the wee one in my arms and be done with this,” Kiara said, resting her arm atop her protruding stomach.

“And what do Nevan and Katherine think of having a new brother or sister? Are they excited?” Bridgett asked.

Kiara laughed. “Not nearly as eager as Paddy! I believe he’s even more excited than he was when Nevan and Katherine were born—though I do na know how that’s possible.”

“Paddy?” Mary Margaret asked, stunned by the revelation. “I wouldn’t think him a man who enjoyed children.”

“Truly? I’m surprised you’d say that,” Kiara said. “From the time he was a young lad, he’s been caring and compassionate. He nearly died as a child, and then when we came to Lowell, we faced great adversity. Paddy and I came to this country as indentured servants, but through the grace of God we received our freedom. Know that I speak the truth when I tell you there is no finer man than Padraig O’Neill.” Her eyes shone with pride.

Bridgett giggled. “And what would your husband be thinkin’ of such a remark?”

Kiara blushed. “Other than my husband, of course.”

“I do agree that Paddy is a fine man,” Bridgett said. “It’s with great fondness I remember sailing across the sea with you and Paddy.”

“Aye. He wasn’t afraid of anything then and he still isn’t. I marvel at the man he’s become. Why, only today I listened to him bargain with men from West Point concerning the fact that they couldn’t afford to pay for the horses they’d already contracted to purchase. Once Paddy determined they were in financial difficulty and weren’t attempting to take advantage of him, he offered a fair and compassionate compromise.”

“Enough about Paddy now,” Bridgett said. “I came here to have ya show me how to correct the mistakes in the lace I’ve been making, and if we don’t begin soon, Cullen will be telling me it’s time to go home.”

Kiara gave Bridgett a warm smile. “Let me see what ya’ve brought for me.”

Bridgett pulled the piece of handwork from her bag and offered it to Kiara. Mary Margaret glanced at the lace and then at Kiara—she was certain she saw Kiara shudder at the sight.

“You’ll be needing some help with this,” Kiara said as she examined the stitches.

“There’s no denying it’s na a pretty sight, but for the life of me, I do na know what I’ve done wrong,” Bridgett lamented.

“The weave is much too loose. Ya’ve used a pattern that’s too large for this thread, and then ya’ve put too few twists between the stitches, making it even worse. Yar braids are not bad, though, so there’s hope for ya. We’ll get ya started with the proper thread. Would ya fetch me my basket?”

Mary Margaret listened closely as Kiara began the intricate lace-making instructions, but as the afternoon wore on, her thoughts wandered to Kiara’s earlier discussion of her brother. Perhaps Mary Margaret had misjudged Paddy. Perhaps he really was a good person and she’d been overly distrustful. He was, after all, quite good looking, and by all accounts there were any number of girls who would be pleased to have him come calling. Truth be told, she might enjoy having him call on her!

C
HAPTER

12

R
EGGIE TAPPED
lightly and then turned the doorknob of Mrs. Brighton’s back door.

“Reggie! I was beginning to think you’d forgotten where I live. And you’ve come just in time to help me with these apple pies,” Elinor said with a broad smile. “Take off your cloak. I’m happy to see you.”

Reggie returned the smile before removing her cloak and hanging it on the iron hook by the door. “It doesn’t appear you need any help,” she said as she entered the kitchen. “The pies are ready to bake.”

Five pies rested on the table, and Reggie knew from her stay at the boardinghouse that each piecrust was heaped full of tart apples mixed with sugar and cinnamon and then generously dotted with butter before being covered by the top crust.

“These are ready, but I have some extra dough and there’s butter and cinnamon and sugar,” she said, pointing at the crocks sitting on the table.

Unable to resist the temptation, Reggie lifted the ball of dough from the bowl and slapped it onto the table. With the ease of someone who had been preparing piecrust for years, she began rolling the dough into a thin crust while Elinor set the pies to bake.

“I must say I’m impressed with how capably you’ve learned to roll a piecrust,” Elinor said.

“Thank you.” The compliment pleased her, but she forced herself to remain guarded.

Mrs. Brighton wiped her hands on the towel tucked at her waist, then turned her attention to the girl. “Where have you been all week? I’ve missed you.”

“It’s only Thursday,” Reggie replied as she spread a thin layer of butter across the crust.

“But you usually come to see me every day after school. When I didn’t see you for three days, I was beginning to think you must be ill. If you hadn’t come today, I was going to come and check on you this evening after supper.”

Reggie began to carefully sprinkle the sugar and cinnamon mixture over the buttered crust. “To see me or to see my father?” she asked with a sidelong glance, hoping to evaluate each word and look that the two of them now exchanged.

A frown creased Mrs. Brighton’s face. “To see whoever could answer my questions about why you hadn’t come to see me.”

Without looking up, Reggie rolled the dough up into a long tube and carefully cut it into even slices, just as Mrs. Brighton had taught her. “Would you still want to see me if I told you my father has met a woman? I think he wants to marry her.”

“Why would that change
our
friendship? Would you be leaving Lowell if he married?”

Mrs. Brighton appeared confused by the question, though Reggie thought it quite forthright.

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