A Baby’s Cry on the Prairie Wind (Preview)

Chapter One

January 1890
Boston, Massachusetts

Everything was covered in a light dusting of snow, making the town of Boston look like it came out of a storybook. In the twelve years she had spent in this town, Amelia Brooks had become so used to the weather that she hardly noticed it anymore. Her boots were either dry and dusty or wet and muddy, which defined her days. However, she noticed it that night. The weather was so cold while her friend Sarah was burning with a fever that just wouldn’t break.

“Where is Benjamin?” Sarah asked, sitting up suddenly in her delirium. She reached for Amelia, grabbing her cold hands with ones of fire.

“He’s fine,” Amelia said. The baby boy, only three months old, was asleep in Amelia’s room next door. “He’s sleeping.”

“My boy,” Sarah said. “You can’t let the bogeyman get him. Okay, Luke? You have to protect him.”

“Sure, Sarah,” Amelia said with a smile. “I’ll take care of it.”

Sarah’s eyes rolled back in her head, and she collapsed on her pillows, where she lay still before twitching and shivering again.

Amelia had done all she could, but a cut on Sarah’s leg had gotten infected, and the doctor wasn’t particularly optimistic. He insisted that Amelia keep Benjamin from his mother and that she feed him goat’s milk, not his mother’s.

Perhaps that had saved the little boy from the same fate as it seemed clear his mother would suffer. And Sarah had been such a vibrant woman. She and Amelia had become friends almost the moment they met.

It had been in the spring of the previous year. Amelia had been out in the yard, tending to the goats and chickens that the inn kept, when she saw Sarah walking up the street. She had been carrying her valise in one hand and lightly knocking the accumulated snow off the railings that marked the end of various properties. She had seemed so carefree then.

“Amelia! What are you still doing fussing over her?” Aunt Maureen asked. She was a large woman married to Amelia’s late mother’s brother. She had never liked Amelia, who had fine features and was a head shorter than her. She didn’t think a woman was worth much if she couldn’t wrestle a wild boar to the ground or carry a guest’s trunk up three flights of stairs. “You have other duties to attend to.”

“I know, but Sarah’s so sick,” Amelia said. “Feel her forehead; she’s burning up like that sun.”

Aunt Maureen bent over the bed and held her hand close to Sarah’s red blotchy skin. “I’ll see to her. You must go and clean the state room. We’re about to get an important guest. It will be a real feather in The Duke’s Alms and no mistake,” she said, setting her shoulders back so the buttons on her jacket strained against her ample flesh.

“Who?” Amelia asked as she pulled on her jacket and scarf. They were in one of the outside rooms reserved for staff, and she would have to run across the yard to get to the inn. “Who is coming?”

“A renowned businessman and his family. We will need the state room to be spick and span;, now hurry,” Aunt Maureen said.

Amelia hesitated. Aunt Maureen was about as warm and caring as a viper. She had never shown any real concern for anyone but herself. Would she really look after Sarah or leave her to her fate?

“Go!” Aunt Maureen cried, and then, as though to prove that she wasn’t heartless and would do something for Sarah, she dipped the cloth that Amelia had been dabbing on Sarah’s forehead in the cold water and wrung it out.

Amelia turned and left the room. She stopped in her room and checked on Benjamin. The baby was warm and sleeping peacefully. If she hurried, she could be back with him and his mother before they really missed her.

Running across the yard, she spotted a shaft of sunlight breaking through the gray clouds. It looked like it was hitting something in the city but thanks to the high walls and roofs around her, she couldn’t see what.

Her mother had always said that a shaft of light like that was God smiling down on someone. Amelia didn’t know if she believed it, but sometimes she liked to think it was real. Now, she wished God would smile on Sarah.

Grabbing her cleaning basket, bucket, and scrubbing brush, she charged up the back stairs that the staff at the inn used to get around. Aunt Maureen and Uncle George didn’t like the staff, which was Amelia, Sarah, Audry, and Hettie, to go up and down the main staircase in full view of the guests. Heaven forbid they know that the rooms weren’t cleaned by magic but by actual human hands.

The state room was on the top floor of the inn. It was a large suite only opened and rented out to those discerning customers willing to pay a hefty fee. It had two bedrooms joined by a parlor in the middle. It was a lot of cleaning up for one person, and if Amelia had let it stand untouched between guest visits, then this would take a long time. However, she made a point of cleaning it once a week, which meant this should be quick. All she had to do was put fresh linen on the beds and ensure that everything looked and smelled fresh.

She did what needed to be done and then made up the fireplaces in the rooms. The businessman and his family would hopefully be comfortable. On her way out, she paused in the parlor in front of one of the paintings. It was a landscape that her mother had painted of their home in Montana.

Amelia missed the stud farm she had been raised on for the first eleven years. She had loved spending her time with the horses, riding them, caring for them. She’d been pretty good in working with them. And now look at her. Anyone would say that all she had a talent for was using a broom and a duster.

She made her way down the backstairs into the kitchen. There, she found Hettie the cook stirring a large pot.

“And just like that, she expects me to make a three-course dinner,” she moaned.

“Just do it, Hettie,” Audry said, chopping vegetables quickly. “I’m here to help, and we can get it done together.”

“I don’t suppose there is some broth or something I can give to Sarah,” Amelia asked as she put her cleaning things away.

“Is she still sick?” Audry asked, looking up, her long face lined with worry. “And Baby Benjamin?”

“He was asleep when I left him,” Amelia said, tucking her chestnut hair under her scarf. It had a kink in it, as her mother used to say, and was always popping out of her bun and trying to frame her face. Mostly, it seemed to get in the way.

“I’ll make something for poor, dear Sarah,” Hettie said, pushing her sleeves up her arms. She was a hefty woman with large muscular arms. She could carry a trunk up three flights of stairs without breaking a sweat.

“Thanks,” Amelia said. “I’m going to check on her and the baby now.”

“Okay, we’ll call you when the broth is ready,” Hettie said. “And if you need some help, just let us know.”

“I might bring little Ben in here,” Amelia said. “It’s so much warmer.”

The cook and her assistant nodded, and Amelia went out into the cold again. She ran across the yard, and when she came to Sarah’s room, she found her friend alone again. Of course. Aunt Maureen had better things to do than look after sick maids.

Sarah was quite distraught. She was sitting up in bed again, mumbling to herself. She kept saying something that sounded like carrot. But that made no sense at all. No carrot, she said over and over.

“Okay, there won’t be carrots,” Amelia said. She was really worried now. The hallucinations were becoming worse and worse. At this rate, Sarah would lose her mind completely, and then what would happen to little Benjamin? He had no father, at least not one Sarah had ever mentioned. The only family that Sarah had ever mentioned was her twin brother Luke, who lived in Texas. She had often said that once little Ben was old enough, she would put them both on a train and take them to the ranch outside a little town called Prairie Hollow. There, she and Luke would raise little Ben with all the horses.

It sounded like heaven to Amelia, who longed for the open grasslands of Montana so much that it felt like a physical ache in her heart. She hated the built-up world that was Boston. All the noise and the too many people. Not to mention the fishy smell of the docks that sometimes wafted over the inn and made her stomach churn. Moving here had been hard, and Amelia had been so happy the day that Sarah had told her that she would be going with her and little Ben.

“Of course, we’ll be going together,” Sarah had said. “I can hardly leave my best friend here.”

Amelia had hung on to that hope like it was a lifeline, and now, with Sarah so dreadfully ill, it seemed to be nothing but a dream. One that would never come true.

The fever was too high. There was nothing for it now. She went into the yard and gathered snow in a bucket. Then she set to packing it all around Sarah to break the fever. Something had to work.

Her friend shivered and shook, but she finally seemed to settle a little.

Just then, Benjamin woke, and he began to cry.

“I’ll be right back,” Amelia said.

She hurried to her room and picked up the baby. He was wet and needed changing. She cleaned him up, wrapped him in a blanket, and tied him to her chest with a scarf. It was loose enough that he wouldn’t suffocate, and she patted his back as she went to the kitchen to get a bottle of warm goat’s milk to feed him.

“Oh? Is he hungry?” Audry asked. “I’ll get his bottle. I milked Topaz this afternoon, and the milk in this jug is fresh.” She poured some from the jug into a bottle and then immersed the bottle in some boiling water. Soon, the milk was warm, and Ben was drinking.

He had had some stomach gripes, changing from his mother’s milk to Topaz the goat’s milk, but now he seemed settled enough.

Amelia fed him, rocking from side to side.

Outside, a coach rattled into the yard. Joseph, the inn’s groom, took the horses and began to see to them. He was just getting started when four men came riding into the yard. The setting sun had turned patches of the snow a fiery red and orange.

The men spoke to Joseph and then walked around to the front of the inn. Amelia watched them go. They were all armed. Every man had a pistol in a holster strapped to his hip. Were they detectives? They had once had a Pinkerton detective stay at the inn. He had looked a bit like that, but not much. There was something off about the men. They kept looking around as though to see who might be watching them.

Amelia sidled to the door that led to the dining room beyond the kitchen. From the glass pane in the door at eye height, she could see right through the dining room to the reception. The door opened, and the men stepped into the inn.

Uncle George was at the desk. He was a large man with a graying beard and streaks of silver in his hair. He was friendly enough, and he greeted the men. Amelia couldn’t hear what was being said. She was terribly curious, so she moved to the door to the back stairs. There was also a corridor that led to reception. She went to the panel behind the desk. From there, she could hear what the men were saying.

“… Mrs. Callahan,” the leader of the troupe was saying. He was the taller of the men. Amelia could see him through a chink in the panel.

“I’m afraid, sir, that there really is no one here by that name,” Uncle George said.

“Fine,” the leader said, clearly becoming agitated. “Try Sarah Morgan. Is she staying here?”

Amelia’s blood froze in her veins. Was he looking for her friend? It seemed so, but Sarah had never mentioned that she was married. Was this man Benjamin’s father?

“Ah, we don’t have a Sarah Morgan staying here,” Uncle George said slowly.

“Don’t lie to me,” the man said. He leaned forward, and Uncle George leaned back. “You know where she is. I can see it on your face. So, why not tell me? Things will go much better for you if you do.”

“I …” Uncle George said. He sounded terrified.

The man pulled his pistol from its holster and pointed it in Uncle George’s face. “I think you’d better start taking. Don’t you?”

Amelia didn’t wait. This was bad! Sarah was so sick. How was she going to get her friend and her baby away safely?

She burst through the door into the kitchen.

“What’s going on?” Hettie asked. She was kneading some dough.

“Don’t stay in here,” Amelia said. “Go, hide!”

“What?” Audry asked. “But we can’t hide.”

“You have to; there are some ruffians in reception, and I don’t think Uncle George will be able to get rid of them,” Amelia said. “I think they’re here for Sarah.”

“Oh, no!” Audry said.

“How can we help?” Hettie asked.

Amelia didn’t know. How could anyone help? “Pack up milk for Ben and anything else you think I might need.”

“What are you going to do?” Audry asked.

Amelia shrugged. “I’m going to try and find them somewhere safe to hide.”

Hettie and Audry nodded and began gathering clean bottles and goat’s milk.

Amelia ran across the yard, holding the baby to her. He was done with his bottle, and she slipped it into her pocket as she opened the door to Sarah’s room.

She wasn’t in bed. She was standing at the window looking out, her face a mask of worry, but her eyes had lost the crazy fever glaze. They were clear for the first time in days.

“Amie,” she said with a smile. “I had the worst dream.”

“Sarah, oh, thank God you’re okay,” Amelia said. “There’s a man here, looking for you.”

“I know. It’s Garret,” Sarah said. She looked at little Benjamin. She was soaking wet from the snow and starting to shake. “He’s like a hound. He’ll never stop until he finds me.”

“Well, he’s not going to find you today,” Amelia said with more conviction than she felt. A penny dropped in her mind. Garret, not carrot. Sarah had been warning Amelia the whole time in her fever.

“Maybe not,” Sarah said weakly. “I spent all these months hiding here. How did he know?”

There wasn’t time for that now. They could worry about how Garret had found them later. For now, they needed to hide, but where? Nowhere here would be safe for them or the others, Audry and Hettie.

“You have to change out of that wet nightgown. Put some clothes on and come with me,” Amelia said, and then the answer came to her. “We have to run. We have to go to the train station. It’s time to go to Texas, to your brother.”

Sarah nodded. “Is Ben okay?”

“He’s perfect, look,” Amelia said.

Little Ben looked up at his mother from his snuggly warm spot tied to Amelia’s chest. His mother smiled.

“I’m going to my room to grab my things,” Amelia said. “Then I’ll be back.”

“Before you go, take this,” Sarah said, slipping the silver locket from her neck. “Give it to Ben.”

“No,” Amelia said, shaking her head. “You can give it to him.”

“Not if Garret finds me, take it,” Sarah pleaded. She was desperate, and Amelia mostly took the locket to get Sarah moving.

She slipped it into her pocket. “Okay, but we have to hurry. Can you get dressed?”

Sarah seemed relieved. She nodded.

Thankful that her friend was finally moving with some urgency, Amelia went next door to her room. She hastily began to throw clothes and things into her bag. She packed for the baby, too. Soon, she was ready. Then came the sound of footsteps on the porch outside. They went right by her room and stopped next door.

With a bang, the door opened.

Amelia froze, her heart beating like a frightened bird’s.

Sarah screamed.

Finding her courage, Amelia hefted the bag and hurried out of her room. She stopped at the window, looking into Sarah’s room. She locked eyes with her friend.

“How dare you run from me?” Garret demanded. He had Sarah pinned to the wall by her throat. He was crushing the life out of her.

Sarah’s eyes pleaded as the life left them.

Amelia felt a weight hit her stomach, and she groaned, tears instantly blurring her vision. She stumbled backward down the steps to the yard. Sarah was dead. Just like that, a light that had burned so brightly had gone out. How was it possible that the sun still set with all its splendor? How had the sky not cracked into a million pieces at the passing of such a wonderful soul?

Benjamin made a little whimper, and it jerked Amelia from her shock.

“Amelia!” Audry called in a harsh whisper as she came into the yard with a leather satchel in her hands. “Here, take it and go. We’ll try to keep them from finding you.”

There were sounds of things crashing and breaking in Sarah’s room.

“George has called the sheriff,” Audry said. “Go!”

Amelia nodded. “Thanks,” she said, and holding the baby, who was all she had left of her best friend, she rushed out of the yard and onto the busy street. In moments, she was swallowed by the crowd on her way to the train station.

Chapter Two

February 1890
The Morgan Ranch,Texas

Luke Morgan leaned his arms on the fence poles and watched the thoroughbred stallion run around in circles in the paddock. His coat was dark chocolate brown, so deep and glossy it was almost black. He held his head high, and he was a magnificent horse. Luke could see the fire burning in the beast’s belly. He only hoped that it would translate into a formidable racer. If he could tame the horse, of course.

“So, how much did you pay for him?” Ma Thompson asked, handing him a mug of coffee. Her breath hung in the air like a little mini fog.

Luke sniffed and wrapped his fingers around the mug. Normally, he wouldn’t tolerate anyone asking such a question. This was his ranch, and he had worked hard to build it into one of the top stud farms in the area. However, Ma had practically raised him, so he didn’t have a leg to stand on with her. She could ask anything she liked and get an answer.

“I paid less than you think,” he said.

“Why? What’s wrong with him?” Ma asked, eyeing the horse.

“His temper,” Jacob Miller said as he approached them. Ma handed him a mug, too. Jacob took it and smiled. “Thanks. That’s definitely warming me up.”

“His temper, huh?” Ma asked. “As though we need another moody male around this ranch.” She chuckled, as did Jacob.

“Oh, very funny, Luke said. “If I weren’t as focused on turning this ranch around, we would all be homeless by now.”

“As you say,” Ma said, nodding. “But now that things are going relatively well, maybe you can take a break and lighten up a little. Gosh, you’ve been as dark as that cloud bank that seems to be heading our way.”

Luke looked up at the sky and sighed. “Looks like snow.”

“Probably,” Jacob said. “I’ll get the horses in the stable.”

Luke nodded. “I’ll take care of the General here.”

“Are you really going to keep that name for him?” Jacob asked. “Maybe if we called him something cuddly, he would stop trying to bite us every time we go near him.”

“Look at him,” Luke said, pointing to the magnificent animal now nibbling the grass by the far post. “He’s not cuddly.”

“That’s half the problem,” Ma said.

“Fine, we won’t call him the General. What do you think he should be called?” Luke asked and sipped his coffee.

“I think he’s up and down like the weather,” Ma said. “In the two days he’s been here, he’s done nothing but stomp around in that paddock and try to take your hand off and then go for a roll in the dust.”

“Storm then,” Jacob suggested, raising his brows. “He’s powerful and unpredictable, like a storm.”

Luke regarded the horse. Yes, maybe Storm would be a good name for him. He looked like he could rain down some trouble for anyone running against him. He would be perfect for the derby if only they could get close enough to put a bridle on him.

“Okay, Storm, it is,” he said with a nod. “But we should get him into his stall before the weather hits. I don’t need him sick.”

“Right you are,” Jacob said, looking less than enthusiastic about moving the horse.

They hadn’t done much with him since bringing him to the ranch, not after the nasty nip he’d given to one of Luke’s grooms.

“How is Paul?” Luke asked.

“The doc says he’ll be right as rain in a week or so,” Jacob said. “He’s enjoying the time off at home.”

Luke sighed. “You take care of the others; I’ll deal with Storm.”

“Are you sure?” Jacob asked.

Luke nodded.

“I’ll get the medicine box from the pantry,” Ma Thompson said with a sigh. “Maybe keep a couple of horses around for the cart if we need to take Mr. Foolhardy here to see Doc Valentine.”

Jacob chuckled, but Luke glared at Ma. She was a fantastic housekeeper but didn’t seem to have much faith in his horse-taming skills.

“Why don’t you think I can do this?” he asked her when Jacob had gone to the field down the back where the other horses were running freely.

Ma sighed and drained her mug. “You’re not like your father, Luke,” she said plainly. Ma never minced her words or held back. “He was as steady as a boulder and just as calm. There was something inside that man that the horses were drawn to. Don’t you remember? He would do nothing but sit on the fence and wait when he got a difficult horse. He would be silent, unmoving, and after a day or so, without fail, the horse would always come to him. Then he could work with it. You can’t sit still that long.” She sighed. “I think there’s just too much fire in your gut. You’re like your mother. Now she was a feisty one and no mistake.” She smiled. “I still miss her. Even though she used to scream and shout a little too much for my liking.”

Luke sighed. “I miss them too, and Sarah.”

“Yes, well, your sister is something else we don’t talk about,” Ma said. “Or has that rule changed?”

Luke regarded her, taking in the silver streaks in her brown hair and the wrinkles on her face that mostly told a story of smiles worn. “No, that hasn’t changed. She should never have left with that Garret Callahan. I warned her.”

“And she wouldn’t listen,” Ma said. “I know. Not a day goes by that I don’t wish and pray that she would just get on that train and come home.” She smiled sadly and patted Luke on the arm. “You just have to have faith that whatever madness drove her from us has passed, and she can see her way clear to us.”

He nodded. His twin sister’s leaving had been the hardest to bear, and Luke still felt the ache of her being so far from him. The yearly Christmas card that she sent was never nearly enough. At least it meant she was still thinking of them, but she never wrote anything on the cards; she just drew a heart with a daisy in the middle.

Ma left him and went into the house carrying the mugs.

Alone with Storm, Luke studied the sky for a while. He tried to slow his breathing as his father had taught him to, to let his thoughts and feelings drain out of him so that he could be as still and calm as a stone.

Leaning on the fence, Luke felt every hard edge, every lump and knot. He sighed. This was silly. He wasn’t his father, and there was no way he could become like him. If he were going to tame this horse, it would have to be on his own terms and in his own way. Trying to do things the way his father had was just winding him up more and more.

“Oh, this is ridiculous!” Luke cried. He stepped away from the paddock and shook his hands and arms, allowing the tension to slide from the ends of his fingers. He was good with horses. He had spent his whole life around them. None had ever given him this much trouble.

Storm pricked up his ears and raised his head. He was listening to something. Perhaps it was thunder miles off where the storm was turning the sky dark. Perhaps it was the other horses, walking sedately up from the field with Jacob leading them. He held them all by a long rein, and none of them gave him any trouble.

But none of them had the same drive and gusto of Storm. Luke knew that this stallion would change his fate. He had to.

Luke’s horses hadn’t won a race yet. Not for lack of trying.

He had been training three of them, two stallions and a mare who showed promise. The one stallion, Zeus, was running well. The other stallion, Gamble, was holding back, and Luke didn’t know why. The mare, Champagne, was running decently, but the mare’s race wasn’t the one to win. It was good and brought in a decent purse, but it wasn’t like the prestige and the bounty that winning the main race brought.

Luke had his eye on that. With those winnings and the fame that went along with them, he could really make something of the ranch. It could be one of the stables that people spoke about, and maybe they could even win at the Kentucky Derby. That was his big dream to get to the derby and win.

Stepping close to the paddock again, Luke climbed the fence and set himself down in the paddock.

Storm eyed him warily. The horse didn’t trust people. Luke had bought him off John Petti, another rancher, who had tried to tame the horse but failed. Apparently, he wasn’t the first to try and not succeed. Storm was just that temperamental and possibly scared.

What had happened to the horse to make him this skittish and mistrustful?

There was no way for Luke to know. John hadn’t had an idea, and he’d practically run away with his money when Luke handed it over, as though Luke might change his mind and ask for the money back.

Approaching the horse, Luke tried to find that peaceful center that his father had used so well when training horses. He breathed slowly and steadily, moving calmly and steadily where the horse could see him.

Suddenly, Storm rushed past him, kicking up dust and dirt and neighing as he went by.

‘Easy, boy,” Luke said, holding up his hand. “Easy now.”

The horse shook his head as though telling Luke that there was nothing easy about him. Minutes ticked by, and Luke kept trying, but Storm kept avoiding him. The horse became more agitated as the clouds rolled in and the wind picked up.

“Come on, Storm,” Luke cried, finally losing his temper. “Don’t you want to spend the night in a nice dry barn instead of out in the cold?”

The clouds were overhead now, and the temperature had dropped dramatically. There was the hint of snow in the air, and Luke thought longingly of the warm fire in the parlor. He would love to be sitting in his comfy chair reading the journals on horseracing he had bought.

Jacob came running over to the paddock. “Do you want some help? Maybe we can rope him and lead him into the stable that way.” He was holding a looped rope.

Luke looked up at the darkening sky. Lightning slashed through the clouds, and slushy drops of sleet began to fall. “Let’s do it.”

The two men set to work.

Things seemed to go better with Jacob there with him and soon they had a rope around Storm’s neck. The stallion looked as though he was none too happy about that, but he put up with it. However, the moment Luke opened the paddock gate he went charging forward. Jacob lost his hold on the rein, and the horse galloped for a few paces before the rein caught in the gate’s hinge. Storm pulled up short with a scream. He toppled over.

“Storm!” Luke yelled and rushed to him.

The stallion was back on his feet in no time and rearing up, his front hooves kicking at the air just in front of Luke. Staggering back, Luke gasped and hurriedly stepped to the side. The horse dropped down, and then, no more than a breath later, he was up on his hind legs again, kicking at the clouds as though he could make them leave with his efforts.

Jacob was back on his feet, and he hastily freed the rein from the hinge but held on tight.

“Okay, boy, calm down,” he said soothingly. “Come on, the stable is just over here, and you’ve got a warm stall waiting for you.”

He began to lead Storm toward the stable. The horse moved jerkily at first, not being keen to follow a human, but then he seemed to understand. Luke walked alongside him.

Storm was a wonderful, formidable animal, but he was so skittish and afraid. Was that why everyone had passed on having him in their stable? Was he too temperamental and difficult to train, and why Luke had gotten him at such a steal of a price?

The sleet was coming down hard now, and they were almost at the stable when a clap of thunder boomed overhead. The lightning lit up the sky, and Storm panicked. He reared up kicking and crying, suddenly fighting the rein that held him.

“It’s okay, boy,” Jacob said to Storm.

“Come on,” Luke said stepping close to Jacob and taking hold of the rein too. “We’re early there, Storm.”

But the horse was fighting now; he didn’t want to be in a stable. He wanted to run and run until the thing that scared him was behind him. Luke understood that.

“There’s no outrunning this,” Luke said to his horse. “You can’t escape the past, Storm. You just have to make do now!”

For a while, the horse continued to fight, not wanting to go into the stable, and then suddenly, something seemed to click in his horsey brain, and he trotted into the stable as easily as clicking one’s fingers.

Luke and Jacob stared at each other as they led the horse into his stall. Then they undid the rope around Storm’s neck and left, closing the door behind them.

“You saw that, right?” Luke asked, astounded.

“Sure did,” Jacob said, “and if I hadn’t been here to see it, I wouldn’t have believed it. I wonder what came over him?”

“Let’s not ask. Maybe it will last a little longer then,” Luke said.

“As you say, boss, but we’d better get inside,” Jacob said.

They closed the door to the stable and ran across the yard to the farmhouse. Jacob stayed in the downstairs room off the scullery. It was a perk to being a head groom.

As they reached the back door and Jacob trotted up the steps, Luke stopped. There was a cart pulling in at the gate. They turned down the drive as Luke was watching them. It looked like Chester Slater’s cart.

“Hey, is that Chester’s cart?” Luke asked, pulling Jacob back by the shirt.

Jacob leaned out of the doorway and squinted in the gloom. “Sure does look like it. What’s he doing here?”

“No idea, you go get warm. I’ll see what he wants,” Luke said. He stepped down from the door and waited under the sloping eaves of the house for the cart to halt in the yard. Then he ran up to the driver’s side.

“Afternoon, Chester,” Luke said. “What brings you by?”

“Found this young lady at the train station,” Chester said. All Luke could see of his face was his nose. He had a woolen hat pulled down over his head and a scarf wound around his neck and up over his face. “She says she has a message for you from your sister. I thought I had better bring her to you, what with the weather setting in an all.”

“Thanks,” Luke said. His attention turned to the other person in the cart driver’s seat. It was a good deal smaller than Chester’s form but was equally bundled up.

“Well?” he asked. “What’s the message?”

“You’d better take her inside,” Chester said.

Luke pursed his lips. The last thing he needed was a houseguest.

“What’s going on?” a voice asked from the kitchen doorway. It was Ma. “Who is that? Chester?”

“Yes, ma’am, I’m just dropping this young lady off,” Chester said.

The young lady was climbing down from the cart’s seat. She moved strangely and needed help. Luke stepped in at the last moment, catching her before she fell. She was holding something in her coat.

“Thank you,” she said, although the words were muffled due to her scarf.

Once she and her bags were off the cart, Chester turned around and headed out of the yard.

“Well, come on in,” Ma said, coming out into the cold to fetch the woman. She took her by the hand and led her inside. “Any friend of Sarah’s is more than welcome here.”

Luke followed them inside, carrying her bags, his mind whirling with questions like the storm outside.