Cinders to Satin by Fern Michaels

Author:Fern Michaels
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 2013-10-21T21:00:00+00:00

Hugh rubbed at his aching knee joints and leaned back in his bed. The moonlight was gone, and before long it was going to rain. His knees said so. If the poor child didn’t find some protection, she would get soaking wet. She must be cold and hungry by now. If there was only something he could do. He was realistic enough to know that dead of night was no time to search the woods and the bluff. A body could go right off without even knowing it until it was too late. Little girls who were upset and couldn’t hear could lose their bearings and plummet down to the bottom. The thought was so horrible Hugh dragged out his pipe and pretended to stuff it with tobacco. When he realized he was just fingering the pipe, he stuck it back into his pocket in disgust.

Callie was now another worry. Lord, what had he done wrong to have these problems foisted on him? He cared, he told himself, and the Almighty also chose those who cared to carry out his wishes. He believed this implicitly. What would become of the young girl from Ireland? Someone had to take care of her now that she was expecting a child. It wouldn’t be easy to find her any kind of job in her condition. What employer would put up with a servant who was sick half the time? Lena had told him on more than one occasion that she caught Callie vomiting and holding her stomach. He had to come up with some kind of solution and come up with it quick. Poor lass, she would have been better off to stay in Ireland. America wasn’t treating her too well, and now with a baby coming God alone knew what would happen to her.

What he needed was a couple of dollops of whiskey, for the ache in his knee. He’d long ago given up liniments and salve in favor of the whiskey bottle. Several mouthfuls later he was tempted to make the trek into St. George to tell Callie they hadn’t found Mary. Now what good would that do? It would only make her more anxious, more fretful. No, he would wait till he had something to report.

She was a bonny lass, Callie James was. A fitting bride and wife for young Rossiter Powers. A pity the boy wasn’t man enough to realize what he was losing. Tied to his Mamán’s apron strings with a knot in the middle of the string, Hugh thought sourly. The whole damn kit and kaboodle of the Powers family, with the exception of Mary, weren’t worth Callie’s little finger. He snorted angrily as he tried to shift to a more comfortable position on his narrow bed over the carriage house.

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