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  The men were clapping and as the women danced. Espé lifted her skirt so she wouldn’t trip and let her feet move in time with the music. She was careful not to click her heels against the floor as she didn’t want to mark it.

  When the dance was over, she needed to catch her breath. She had poured herself a cup of punch when Chance Redburn brought over a man to the table where she was standing.

  “Miss Espéranza Martinez, this is Mr. Waterman. He is your intended beau.”

  “What do you mean my intended beau?” She placed her cup back on the table.

  “You weren’t here earlier.” He shifted from one foot to another. “I couldn’t find my aunt’s papers so I don’t know who was assigned to who. I think you and Mr. Waterman will make a fine couple.” Chance quickly moved away leaving Espé there with the stranger. Beans had already left.

  “Miss Martinez,” he said looking her up and down. “I have to say you were not what I was expecting.”

  “And what were you expecting?” She didn’t like the way he looked at her. He was very handsome. Strikingly so. A chiseled chin, thin lips, a sharp nose and eyes that bore into her as if trying to claim her secrets.

  “I don’t know. But not you.”

  He held out his hand. If she was going to play this charade, she might as well go all the way. Espé hesitated before placing her hand in his as he guided her across the floor.

  “I’m not going to bite you. Let’s just dance for a moment, get to know each other and then call it a night.”

  Espé relaxed a bit and allowed the man to place his arm around her waist. He held her other hand and led her in a circle around the floor.

  “Do you live here in town, Mr. Waterman?”

  He gave a sharp bark. “You may call me Austin. There isn’t any reason for small talk, Miss Martinez. Neither one of us wants to be here.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I’m only here so I can keep my ranch going. I need a mother for my daughters. You are here...,” he stood back and motioned to her dress. “I don’t know why you are here. You look more like a street performer than a bride.”

  Espé saw red. How dare he call her that. She pulled out of his embrace and started yelling at him in Spanish. She turned on her heel not caring if the nails on her shoes ground into the wooden floor as she strode from the room.

  As she pushed her way through the crowd, she glanced back to make sure she wasn’t being followed and ran into a wall. Or at least she thought it was a wall.

  The wall turned around and steadied her, placing his hands on her shoulders. “Whoa, there,” the wall said. “Careful, I wouldn’t want you to fall down. Are you alright?”

  Espé looked up. She gave a little gasp as she looked into the brightest blue eyes she had ever seen. They were the color of the water on the beach where she used to walk. The man was at least a good head taller than she, and his hands felt firm as he held her.

  Espé noticed a few reddish hairs on his arm which disappeared under his shirtsleeves. He had an oval face, with dimples in his cheeks and his lips were curved up in a smile. He had deep red hair and sideburns graced his cheeks.

  Espé shook her head and removed herself from his embrace. “Thank you,” Espé said. “Please excuse me.” She ran from the foyer, taking the steps two at a time until she reached her room.

  Quickly undressing, she placed her clothes back in the carpet bag. She was stupid to think she belonged anywhere but with her family. She understood now why the escolta were so protective. It was an ugly world outside their community.

  Espé laid under the covers, pulling the sheet over her head. The smell of clean cotton comforted her, but it wasn’t her Papá’s scent. She closed her eyes and tried to forget everything that had happened so far. But all she could think about was the striking blue eyes, gazing down on her.

  She knew he must be one of the beaus. She wondered who he was paired with, and why was she so disappointed that it wasn’t her?

  Chapter 5

  Bill was in the garden pruning the rose bushes. He gently lifted each stem and cut off the dead growth from winter. He enjoyed being in the garden, as that was one of the places he felt close to God.

  As he moved from one bush to the next, he had a difficult time getting the dark-haired beauty out of his mind. He talked briefly to most of the women but didn’t recall seeing her until she walked right into him.

  He hadn’t minded that either. She fell right into his arms when he turned around. She was petite, coming only up to his chest. One of the braids had fallen out of its pins and lay over her shoulder. He would have loved to unbraid it and watch the curls drop gently down her back.

  She had a beautiful heart shaped face, with rosy cheeks that were not the result of rouge. Her dark eyes were framed by thick lashes and her lips were the color of the apples in the autumn. Bill gave a silent groan. He had never desired to kiss a woman until now.

  If Miss Viola is watching me from heaven, I’ll bet she is chuckling at me right now, he thought.

  He wondered if those lovely lips tasted as sweet as they looked.

  The only reason he attended the dance last night was to welcome the women to the community and to alleviate any fears about their intended beaus. He tried to talk Chance out of randomly assigning partners, stating it would only result in confusion.

  However, most of the couples didn’t appear confused, so why did he? He thought of Miss Viola and what she asked of him. Would it be too much to consider a helpmate?

  He admitted that he had come to question whether committing himself to a bachelor life was best for the church. He did get lonely sometimes in the small parish house behind the church. He was so adamant about not making the same mistakes his parents did, that he wondered if he made the right decision.

  Bill moved to the next rose bush and started to make a mental list of the qualities his helpmate would possess. He started with qualities such as loyalty, caring, kind and then his thoughts drifted to a different grouping – dark hair, tall enough to lay her pretty head against his chest, eyes the color of dark chocolate. Bill shook his head.

  It didn’t matter what the instant attraction was; but it was just that: an instant attraction and nothing more. The woman from the night before was definitely beautiful and any man would be attracted to her.

  However, he needed to know more about her before he could consider her as his helpmate. She would need to care deeply for others: the sick, the elderly, the bereaved, and orphans. She would need to be good at listening and cautious when she spoke. And for sure, she would need thick skin! How many times had he heard of pastors whose churches had turned into war zones when someone criticized the pastor while his wife was close enough to hear it. She would need to be that loyal, but she would need to bite her tongue instead of engaging in a public battle of words with her husband’s critics. She would need to be someone who would help lift him up and he could do the same for her.

  No, that woman definitely wouldn’t qualify. If Widow English had seen the woman in that beautiful blue dress with a slit up the side, she would have taken her aside and talked to her about dressing appropriately. Bill did see more than one tongue wagging as she exited the room.

  Maybe he would go and talk to Chance about the options for finding a bride. Not that Bill really wanted one, but now that the seed had been planted it was difficult to let go.

  Bill snipped off one more branch. That was the last rose bush to be pruned. He made his way to the lilac bush that was growing on the side of the church. As he was pulling on the branches, he looked down the hill and saw a woman walking up towards the church.

  She was wearing a plain blue skirt with a white blouse. She had a shawl with fringe wrapped around her hips and tied at her waist. Bill watched her as she approached.

  It was the woman from last night!

  If he thought she was beautiful the night before, today in the sunlight she was absolutely stunning. Her long dark hair flowed down her back and s
he had captured it with a ribbon that matched her skirt. Her skin was the color of caramel and the lips that haunted his thoughts he could see were the color of bright strawberries, not the apples he considered before.

  She looked up and locked eyes with Bill, her mouth forming a perfect circle. He ducked behind the bush, peeking around the side only when he heard her boots crunching the gravel.

  She had changed directions and was now headed towards a bench under the tree on the far side of the hill. He watched as she sat down and looked at the town below. She appeared upset, as Bill watched her shoulders rise and fall and she would occasionally wipe her nose.

  He felt foolish standing behind the bush. He knew she had seen him. It was a silly thing to do on his part.

  He was torn between leaving her alone or stepping in as a member of the clergy and offering her some counsel. Taking a deep breath, he put his pruners and gloves on the ground and started to walk over to where she was sitting.

  Espé was surprised to see the man with the red hair from last night. She saw him disappear behind the tall bush once he spied her. Perhaps he was the gardener. After all, it looked like he was doing something with the shrubbery next to the church.

  She wasn’t up to talking to anyone after the afternoon she just experienced. Mr. Redburn suggested that she visit the Waterman Ranch that morning. Espé begged not to go, but he was insistent. One of the widows from the ladies auxiliary came and escorted her to the ranch. It was a bit too far to walk, so they took a carriage to the outside of town.

  The house was a large sprawling ranch style house made of hand-sawed wooden beams and tall glass windows. Espé had never seen anything so grand. The land was flat as far as she could see and cattle grazed in the fields. There was a large barn off to the side, and Espé could see workers handling horses in the barn yard.

  Mrs. Grant pulled in front of the house and two little girls came running out. They were both blonde with pigtails. Both were still in their dressing gowns Espé estimated their ages to be around 3 and 5. They looked at her with big eyes. The older one pulled her doll closer.

  “Hello, Joyanne. Hello Blossom,” Mrs. Grant said as she got down from the wagon.

  “Who’s that?” the younger one said without removing her fingers from her mouth.

  “It isn’t polite to speak with your mouth full, Miss Blossom,” the widow chastised. “Ask your question again.”

  Blossom pulled her fingers out of her mouth and pointed to Espé. “Who is that lady?” Mrs. Grant took the children’s hands and lead them inside.

  “That is Miss Martinez and she will be visiting for tea.” Mrs. Grant popped her head out the door. “Well, Espéranza, are you going to sit in the carriage all day, or are you going to come in?”

  Espé stepped out of the carriage and climbed the two steps to the porch. The porch was long and had several rocking chairs facing towards the west. It must be to watch the sun go down, she thought.

  She followed Mrs. Grant inside the house and her breath stilled. She was mesmerized by the sight before her. The house was an open floor plan. There were several posts going up to the roof and beams going across.

  The floors were a polished wood and Espé realized she could see her reflection if she would bend down to look. There was a huge stone fireplace with a raised hearth. Two overstuffed leather chairs in rich brown were in front of the fireplace with a fur rug between them.

  Lamps hung from the ceiling and Espé could see that they used a pulley system attached to the walls so they could be lowered and raised. None of the houses in Florida had lamps such as that.

  Mrs. Grant called to Espé from across the room.

  “Espéranza, this is Maya, Mr. Waterman’s housekeeper. How would you like your tea?”

  Maya was a bit older than Espé, and of Mexican descent. Her long black hair was braided down her back and she wore a colorful skirt with a peasant top. There was a wide cloth belt around her waist.

  “Just milk, please,” Espé answered.

  Maya nodded. “Espéranza is a lovely name. It means hope, no?” she asked in Spanish.

  Espé responded in kind. “Yes. How did you know that?”

  “I have an Aunt Espéranza.”

  “Maya,” Mrs. Grant interrupted. “You should go and get the tea. Tell Mr. Waterman we are here, although I don’t know why he didn’t greet us himself.” Mrs. Grant sat down in one of the chairs.

  “Si, Señora,” Maya replied.

  “Where did the children go?” Espé asked her chaperone.

  Mrs. Grant waved her hand. “They went back to the nursery, I imagine. The girl Austin has watching them really should do better.”

  “The girl?”

  “Yes. He has a nanny for the children. She isn’t more than a child herself. She’s Maya’s cousin, I think.”

  Espé thought Mrs. Grant knew quite a bit about the family for being an outsider. Perhaps Espé’s family was just more private.

  “His wife died giving birth to Blossom.”

  “Whose?”

  “Austin’s, of course. That is why you are here. Those girls need a mother. Austin is out doing ranching things and they are in here being watched by the…” She gave Espé a smile. “You don’t worry about that at all.” She looked around the room. “I wonder why Austin hasn’t shown himself.”

  Espé sat on a settee on the other side of the room. The leather was stiff beneath her fingers. They sat in an awkward silence until Joyanne came running down the hall holding a doll in the air. She squealed as she ran, her sister not far on her heels.

  “You can’t catch me!” the little girl taunted her sister. Blossom ran around the sofa, her chubby legs trying to keep up. When she rounded the corner she tripped, falling face first into the ground. The toddler pushed herself up and started to wail.

  “Oh goodness,” Espé cried, reaching down to lift the child up and placed her on the sofa right next to where she was sitting. Before Espé could examine the child, a girl, no older than fifteen came running from the back room.

  She stopped short when she saw Espé and Mrs. Grant in the sitting room. “Oh, I didn’t realize we had company.” She looked at the two girls. “Get back to the nursery right this instant.”

  Maya came in carrying a tray with two cups of tea. She looked at the girl and admonished her in Spanish. “Lucia, what are you doing out here? You know Mr. Waterman doesn’t like the children running around the house. And especially not with company here.”

  Lucia looked like she was going to cry. “They just ran out of the room. I was folding their clothes and I didn’t see them leave.”

  “Well, pay attention next time. You don’t want Mr. Waterman to become angry.”

  “Why would Mr. Waterman become angry about his children running around?” Espé asked. “They aren’t causing any trouble.”

  Maya looked at Espé. “He doesn’t want to see them because they remind him of his dead wife.”

  “If you are going to speak in front of me, I insist that you speak English.” Mrs. Grant stomped her boot on the wooden floor. Lucia guided the children back down the hallway, and they disappeared around the corner. “That tea is going to get cold,” the widow said, taking a teacup from the tray Maya offered her.

  Maya served Espé the other cup of tea and gave her an unspoken look before heading towards the kitchen again. Espé wasn’t sure what the look meant, but it was as if Maya was trying to warn her of something.

  Nothing could be that terrible. She was only here because she couldn’t find a way to avoid Mr. Redburn. He had been so nice to the ladies and Espé didn’t have the heart to tell Violet she wasn’t interested in a husband.

  She sipped her tea, feeling like a fraud.

  They had been there an hour and still no sign of Austin. Mrs. Grant had fallen asleep in the chair, so Espé snuck to the door and headed towards the barn.

  There were sounds of shouts coming from inside the barn. Espé recognized the sound of Austin’s voice.


  “Lift her up!” he yelled. “Lift her up!”

  Espé peered inside the door that was partially open. There were men crowded around a pen in the back. She peeked between the men and could see Austin caressing a horse’s face. His shirt was drenched in perspiration and his hair was soaked. He had a bandana around his neck.

  The horse was straining. Espé could see the rise and fall of its belly. She pushed through the men to stand in front of the pen. Climbing on the metal gate, she leaned over to get a better view.

  Two men had lifted the horse to a standing position. Austin had moved around to the back of the horse and was barking orders to the men. Espé realized that the horse was in labor, but she was having trouble delivering the foal.

  Espé watched as Austin put on a glove and reached inside the mare. A gush of water ran down the mare’s legs, pooling on the barn floor. Espé could see that the fluid was a light pink. The men held the horse while Austin pulled.

  Two legs appeared and Austin gave a few more tugs. The foal slid to the ground and didn’t move. Its face was still covered by the amniotic sac. Austin knelt by the foal and quickly removed the film cover its face, cleaning out the foals’ nostrils and mouth. He cupped his hands around the horse’s nose and blew gently, watching the chest rise.

  After a few minutes he stopped and lowered the tiny horse’s head to the straw. “It was a stallion,” he said to the crowd. He spied Espé standing on the rail and a flicker of anger appeared. “Clean her up,” he said to one of the men. “Someone needs to bury the foal.” He tore the bandana off his neck and used it to wipe his face. “What are you doing here,” he asked Espé as he pushed open the gate she was standing on and moved into the main portion of the barn.

  “I was told to come visit you today. I thought you were expecting me.”

  He looked her up and down. “At least you are dressed appropriately today.”

  Espé chose to ignore his cutting remark. “What happened to the horse?” she asked.

  “It was a reverse birth. It didn’t turn.”

  “So was the head supposed to come out first?” Austin walked by and headed out of the barn. Espé quickly followed taking two steps to every one of his. “Why couldn’t you save it?”