Cheyenne Splendor by Georgina Gentry

Author:Georgina Gentry [Gentry, Georgina]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kensington
Published: 2014-08-26T16:00:00+00:00

Summer rested awhile, wrote the wire, and went downstairs. She’d give the telegram to David, let him take care of it if he was going to town this morning. She would tell her brother her secret; but she wasn’t sure what he could do to help. “Where’s David?”

Evans said, “He took Master Lance and Storm sledding.”

“Oh, yes, of course. And the baby?”

“I believe Mrs. O’Malley and the servants have her in the kitchen playing with her.” His tone gave her to know he did not approve of such camaraderie between servants and employers. “If you don’t mind, miss, I was just on my way up to town to pick up supplies.”

“Oh, good. I won’t be putting you to any trouble, then, if I ask you to send this wire?”

“A wire? Of course not, miss, I am employed to serve.”

She gave it to him, then went back upstairs to her mother’s room.

The little music box tinkled out its melody as Summer went in.

The new little maid, Nancy, said, “I’m sorry for playing it, miss, but it’s the only thing that seems to quiet her.”

“That’s all right.” She wondered what had happened to that last maid; what was her name? Oh, yes, Sassy. The room seemed so cheerless and gloomy. “I wish we had some roses; it would make it seem more like spring.”

“Hard to come by in this weather.” The maid moved the suitcase as she dusted around the lamp table.

Priscilla’s eyes opened, but she didn’t seem to see anyone. Her gaze fastened on the suitcase, and she smiled ever so slightly and dropped back off to sleep.

What was it about a piece of luggage that triggered her mother’s emotions, even when the woman’s mind was so far gone that she packed it with an odd collection of miscellaneous junk? Summer was suddenly very weary of this vigil and wished it were all over so everyone could get on with their lives. Immediately, she felt guilty for wanting her mother dead, this long ordeal ended. What was it that was holding Priscilla here? Perhaps she might be waiting for spring, to sit in her garden and smell the roses one more time.

Summer went to the window and looked at her mother’s dead garden with its fountains and ornate benches buried under ice. She remembered now there was a particular bush that her mother favored, a bush of yellow roses. How many times as a child had she seen her mother sitting on the grass by that bush, an armful of the yellow blossoms in her arms, her face buried in them to inhale their slightest scent? Once, when she had looked up at the sound of her daughter’s step, little Summer had noticed that Priscilla was weeping. Perhaps her mother had pricked her finger on a thorn; what other reason could there be?

Now the skeleton of that bush stood out stark against the winter snow below the window. . . .

“Miss Summer, I’m havin’ a bit of tea and muffin, would you care for some?”

Summer turned away from the window and the sight of the dead garden below.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.