The Kissing Tree (8 page)

“This one’s from Mr. Alexander also,” Tiny chimed in.

“Aye, and this one here as well,” her grandfather added.

Then all heads turned to look at Ridge, who sat eagerly finishing his pie, seemingly ignoring the conversation altogether.

“Well?” Jeremiah asked him.

“Well, what?” Ridge answered in a monotone voice.

“Is that there letter in front of ya from Mr. Alexander too?” Jonas asked.

“The letter ain’t addressed to me, so it’s none of my business who it’s from,” Ridge answered matter-of-factly. He washed down his pie with the last of his milk.

“Hogwash!” Jeremiah replied, reaching across the table and snatching the letter up. He did not need to say anything, for the triumphant expression on his face told everyone that indeed the final letter was from the same originator.

“Well, Jimmy, looks like ya might have a little bit of competition.” Jonas slapped Jimmy on the shoulder. Poor Jimmy, he turned as red as a tomato.

Everyone’s attention then turned back to Georgiana. Jonas gathered up all the letters and handed them to her with an exaggerated bow.

“I believe these belong ta you, my dear Miss Georgiana McLaughlin, for that assuredly is your name clearly written on ’em,” he spoke with exaggeration, lending his voice to the dramatics of the moment.

Still no one dared laugh. Not until her grandfather, who obviously could not hold it in any longer, let out a loud guffaw. That was all it took to break the ice, and all the men, with the exception of Ridge, laughed simultaneously. But even he was struggling to hold back a chuckle.

“Dearest girl . . . ,” her grandfather began, pausing to wipe away tears born of merriment from his eyes. “I think ye have quite the admirer,” he finally managed to say after the laughter had died down a bit. “Five letters in but a week! The lad must be writin’ to ye ’bout every day. If I didn’t know ye better, I’d be thinkin’ ye had the lad’s heart attached to yar sleeve.” His comment only served to cause another round of hearty laughter from the men.

“How many letters did he write last week?” Jeremiah quizzed her.

She wasn’t sure, but she thought Ridge might have attempted to thwart Jeremiah’s questioning because he let out a howl and threw Ridge a dirty look. Finally Georgiana found her voice.

“That’s not any of your business, Jeremiah Johnston. In fact, you all should be ashamed of yourselves. Does not one of you have any sense of propriety? These letters are addressed to me, and, as such, are of no concern to any of you. So . . . ,” she said, crossing her arms across her chest and taking a moment to eye each man individually, “in the future, I would ask that each of you mind your own business where my personal life is concerned. Unless, that is, I choose to seek your opinion. Though I think that after such an ungrateful show of appreciation for all my attentiveness to each of you, and for your obvious display of bad manners, it is highly unlikely.” She felt guilty for lumping Ridge in with the rest of them, for at least he had tried to abstain from mocking her. Maybe that was only because he already knew who the letters were from. After all, he had brought them from town.

“Now, now, Georgie,” her grandfather spoke up again. “ ’Tis been a long day, and the lads and I mean ye no harm. There be no doubt, ye being the beauty that ye are, many lads would be rivalin’ after yar affections. Hold not these here boys’ failin’s against them this night.” He turned to the men. “Now, I be expectin’ each of ye to apologize to me girl fer not respectin’ her privacy ’bout her lovesick lad and teasin’ her thoroughly for it.”

One by one, the men brought their dishes to the sink, offered their apologies, and thanked her for dinner before heading out to the bunkhouse. Last of all, her grandfather gave her a kiss on the cheek and, looking very chagrined, stood before her.

“Why don’t ye go to relax a bit, me girl, and be lettin’ me clean up fer ye tonight.” His kind offer softened her anger a bit, as had each of the men’s heartfelt apologies. She knew her words had been harsh, but they had struck a nerve with her, teasing her about the very thing she was frustrated over.

“That’s kind of you, Grandad, but I’d like to stay up for a while. Besides, you’re the one who needs to take it easy. You’re not as young as you used to be.” She patted his cheek and gave him a kiss.

“Aye, ye be right about that. One day, I’ll be sellin’ this old ranch and puttin’ me old bones to rest.” For a moment he got a faraway look in his eyes. “Maybe then I’ll be takin’ me a trip back to the Old Country and gettin’ me one last, long look before I go to be with me Shannon.”

“That would be a nice holiday, Grandad.” She dabbed a tear and smiled at him affectionately, then abruptly shook her finger at him. “But don’t you be thinking of leaving me too soon. I want you around for a good long time, all right?”

“Aye, ’tis been grand havin’ ya here, darlin’ girl.” He took his aged, roughened hands and placed them on both of her cheeks, looking lovingly into her eyes. It was something he’d always done when she was a child. The last time had been just before she’d boarded the train to New York five years ago. She couldn’t remember what he’d said, only that his eyes had glistened with the same raw emotion. His tender gesture made her tear up again even before he spoke. “Ye have been a blessin’ to me . . . a blessin’ from heaven.” He paused for a moment to add emphasis to what he’d said, released her face, grabbed one of her hands, and held it lovingly between both of his. “Aye, I canna tell ye how much it be easin’ the ache in me heart ta have ya home again.” He then released her hand and turned to go.

“Good night, Grandfather . . . sleep well,” she called after him softly, wiping the tears from her face. She slowly turned and began putting the remains of supper away.

A short while later, as Georgiana washed up the dishes, the kitchen door opened, and Ridge appeared. He made no immediate move to come in the rest of the way, but just stood there, quietly watching her. It unnerved her slightly, and she only dared glance at him for a moment, though it was enough to start her heart racing. Slowly, he walked up beside her, grabbed a dish towel, and began drying the dishes she was washing. Neither of them said anything to each other, just worked in comfortable silence. Yet each time he accidentally brushed up against her, it sent a thrilling sensation up her arm. That spoke volumes. When the kitchen was clean, Ridge turned, opened the door, and headed outside.

“Ridge?” Georgiana called softly before he shut the door. He stopped and turned toward her. It bothered her that she couldn’t read any emotion in his eyes. “Thank you . . . for your help and . . . ,” she took a deep breath, trying to slow her heartbeat, “. . . and for earlier at dinner, for being respectful of my feelings.”

He didn’t say anything to her, simply nodded his head, and turned again to leave.

“Ridge,” she called again, and once more he turned back, but this time he refused to meet her eyes. She could sense something was bothering him. “Is everything all right? Did I do something to . . . ?” she asked, fumbling over her words. “I mean . . . you just seem different tonight . . . somehow. I thought . . . well . . . before you left to the mountain it was like we were finally . . . um . . .” She was about to say “friends” again, but for some reason the word
friend
suddenly didn’t seem enough. But that’s all they were to each other, wasn’t it?

Instead of answering, Ridge turned and leaned his forearm on the doorframe and looked up at the night sky. “There ain’t goin’ to be much of a fall this year. Too bad, ’cause I know how much you always liked the fall leaves and such. Winter’s already beginnin’ to set in,” he commented bleakly. Then he added more tenderly, “Ya shouldn’t sleep with your window open tonight. There’ll be frost in the mornin’.”

Feeling compelled to do so, Georgiana walked to him. When she was but a step away, she reached up and laid her hand on his shoulder. She felt him immediately stiffen at her touch, but she did not pull back.

“Ridge . . . maybe we should talk. There are things we need to—” she began.

He cut her off by shrugging her hand off his shoulder. “It’s late,” he said abruptly, “and I still have some chores to finish up.” Catching her eyes briefly, he gave her an almost imperceptible nod before turning away and quietly mumbling, “Good night, Georgie. Best be gettin’ to bed. Mornin’ comes early . . .” That’s all she caught before he was too far away to hear anymore.

Georgiana walked to her room and sat on her bed. The easy-going feeling between them had once again disappeared, leaving only awkwardness in its place and making her wonder what had changed.

Frustrated, Georgiana turned her thoughts instead to the letters she’d received. She eagerly read the letters from her mother and brother. The boys had a few days’ break from their classes, and having them around the house seemed to have brightened her mother’s mood. She was glad of that.

Looking down at the stack of Dawson’s letters beside her, Georgiana decided she was just too tired to read them tonight. She gathered them up, walked over to her dresser, and put them in her top drawer. She would read them tomorrow when she got a break in the day.

Before heading back to her bed, she walked over to the window and pushed it closed.
Ridge was right,
she thought as a shiver passed through her. Her room was already notably cooler than it had been the night before. Quickly, she slipped beneath her covers. It wasn’t much warmer at first, but before long the heat from her body warmed the blankets and she was content.

Sleep did not come right away, though. Her mind was troubled. When had everything gotten so complicated? Of course the answer to that lay five years in the past. Closing her eyes, she forced herself to think of younger days when life had seemed so carefree and easy, days when she hadn’t a care in the world. Days before her father had been killed and when her mother had worn a smile. She remembered how they had danced about the parlor as Grandad whistled and Nana tried to clap in time with the beat while balancing Georgie’s giggling brothers, William and Aden, on her lap. A deep smile, born of joy-filled memories, graced Georgiana’s face as sleep finally claimed her and her dreams temporarily took her away to a different time. Always though, while she laughed and played with her family, she was conscious of a boy with curly brown hair, smiling and laughing with them, the warm honey of his eyes dancing with mischief and mirth.

◁ ◊ ▷

Ridge still didn’t feel like turning in after he finished the last of his chores, so even though the evening was uncomfortably cool, he found himself once again leaning up against the bunkhouse wall looking at the stars. A name was tumbling about in his mind over and over, and he couldn’t seem to make it stop. Ever since Mrs. Swansen had called him over to the post office on his way out of the feed store and had handed him the bundle of letters for Georgiana, his mind had been troubled.

“That gal must have a beau back home,” Mrs. Swansen had commented, “and he must be smitten for sure.” She smiled as if she were revealing a great secret. “I’ve never seen a man write so many times to one woman in a matter of just a few weeks. By golly, he sent her three last week. Things must be serious between those two lovebirds. I sense a weddin’ not too far in that girl’s future.” She had then winked at him conspiratorially before hurrying back into the post office.

Ridge sighed in frustration.

The thought had occurred to him when she had returned that she might have someone waiting for her. But still she had awakened old hidden feelings in him he thought he had ridded himself of years ago. He should’ve known she’d long since fallen in love with another man. Old Angus had been right when he’d pointed out at supper there must be lots of men trying to catch her eye. Well, obviously at least one had succeeded. How could he have been so foolish as to allow himself to start wondering what it would be like to hold her in his arms, to taste a sweet kiss upon her lips?

On the mountain, he had hardly been able to keep his head out of the clouds, and he was beginning to worry he would be accused of acting like a lovesick pup right along with Jimmy. Of course the other hands didn’t know he had feelings for Georgiana. Only Angus, he knew, had guessed at it.

Well, at least he hadn’t made a fool of himself in front of her. He’d be better off without her and that Irish temper. In fact, he should feel sorry for Mr. Dawson Alexander. The man probably didn’t know what was in store for him.

Glancing over at the ranch house just in time to see Georgiana’s light go out, Ridge was surprised. He figured it would take her hours to read through all them letters, and even longer if she answered the man right back.

Ridge sighed deeply, his shoulders slumped low. Leaning deeper into the wall behind him, he suddenly felt weary. It was late, and the lack of sleep he was getting lately was wearing on him. If only he could just stop thinking. Walking around to the door of the bunkhouse, he quietly let himself in. Most of the men were already fast asleep. Only Jimmy lay awake on his top bunk. Ridge cringed inwardly. The boy was almost assuredly waiting up for him, and there was no avoiding it. Ridge slept on the bed directly beneath him.

“Night, Jimmy. Best you be gettin’ to sleep. Remember, mornin’ comes early on a cattle ranch.” Ridge lay down on his bed, not bothering to undress and only kicking off his boots.

“Hey, Ridge?” He could see the bed move as Jimmy rolled onto his side.

“Yeah, Jimmy.” Ridge really wasn’t in the mood to talk.

“Do ya think Miss Georgiana is in love with that city boy who wrote her all them letters?” Jimmy all but whined.

“Now, how would I know a thing like that, boy?”

“Well . . . I thought you two were sorta . . . ya know . . . good friends.”

“And just what made ya think that?” he asked Jimmy, pondering the fact that he really didn’t know what he and Georgiana were anymore.

“Don’t know. I guess ’cause ya seem ta spend so much time helpin’ and talkin’ to her.” he answered. And then with more exuberance, he added, “ ’Sides, Jonas and Jeremiah told me you two was friends when you was younger, afore she moved away and all. They said she was the reason ya got all the fun knocked out of ya.” He paused for a moment as if contemplating his next question. “Did ya really tie her braids ’round the stair railin’?”