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Bride by Beguilement

By Debbie Lynne Costello

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“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.
Jeremiah 29:11

Chapter 1

Sunset, Texas 1881
K
irsten Macleod didn’t believe in bad omens, but if she did, she’d blame it on the mirror she’d broken last week. Polly, her maid, wearing a robin’s-egg-blue dress that complemented her eyes, certainly thought that was why her horse was sick and the veterinarian was out of town. “Seven years of bad luck, I tell you, Miss Macleod. This is only the beginning. You never shoulda broke that mirror.”
Kirsten stole her gaze away from Briagha, the object of her concern, and peered out the barn door into the darkness, straining to hear anything that would hint of Calum’s return. The sweet smell of clean hay wafted up, tickling her senses. The crickets chirped in competition with the cicadas’ mournful song, but no pounding of hooves on the dirt met her ears. What took him so long? She let out a frustrated sigh. Rustling hay tore her attention away and back to the tall chestnut with the lightest flaxen mane. Her mare had made the trip with her from Scotland. Then she’d lost Mother and Da. Her heart twisted. She couldn’t lose Briagha, too. She forced her shoulders back. She wouldn’t allow herself to think like that.
At least she had Calum, her da’s faithful friend and helper, who had continued on at the plantation with her after Da passed. Calum always seemed to know what to do. Like tonight when he launched himself onto a horse and sped out of the barn like a pack of wolves was at his heels.
The quiet mewing of two-week-old kittens drew her gaze. Miss Maple, the mother, tenderly licked one baby, then another, reminding Kirsten of her beloved cat she’d left in Scotland. These little lives brought her joy, and she loved to scoop them up and rub her cheek against their new fur. The temptation of their comfort called to her.
Briagha drew in a strangling breath, her legs wobbling beneath her thousand pound frame, belying the usual strength of her horse, which returned Kirsten’s attention to the worry at hand and away from the little balls of fur. Resting her body against the horse’s shoulder, Kirsten attempted to soothe her. “Dinna give up on me, lass. Calum will find someone who can help.” The words were not for the horse alone, but to bolster her own hope. She had to believe.
As he had sped out the door, Calum’s promise to fetch help had floated away before she could grasp everything he’d said. How far did he have to ride for that assistance?
She closed her eyes. Lord, bring Calum back quickly with that help.
Her heart ached. ’Twas enough grieving the recent loss of her father. She couldn’t lose Briagha. Kirsten leaned forward and grasped the side of the hanging feed bucket, tipping it toward her so she could peer inside. It didn’t look as if the animal had touched any of the grain. A lump rose in her throat. She let go, allowing the bucket to bang against the wooden stall. When Calum first mentioned the horse’s loss of appetite two days ago, she should have sent for the veterinarian, but instead she’d been too busy fretting over the rash of stolen equipment.
Kirsten wrapped her arms around the mare’s neck and rested her head against its sleek chestnut hair. Heat emanated from the horse and warmed Kirsten like an evening fire on a cool night. The smell of horse sweat permeated the air. She drew in a quivering breath. Fever. What kind of sickness did they face? With fingers tangled in the horse’s mane, a tear slipped down her cheek. Not wanting to take her hands from Briagha, she lifted her shoulder and wiped the dampness from her face onto her muslin work dress.
The snap of a twig brought her to attention. She stared out beyond the barn’s lantern light and into the blackness of the night. Perhaps she should have called for a servant to keep company with her after Calum had left. Tiny needles prickled up her spine and spread through her body, leaving her uneasy. Darkness obscured the land, concealing details evident in the daytime and hiding anything lurking about—including the thief who’d been pilfering from her plantation. She swallowed. What would the thief do to her if he found her alone?
The cracking of branches drew closer. Footfalls pounded on the ground. Her heart sped up as she glanced around for something to defend herself. Nothing was within reach. Her breath caught as someone bolted through the entrance and came to an abrupt stop in the dim light.
“S’cuse me, ma’am.”
Kirsten let out a squeak. Willing her voice not to quiver while relief surged through her, she forced out a single word. “Aye?” It was Sammy, one of the tenant farmer’s sons.
He took a couple steps inside. “Is you crying?”
She forced a smile. “Something was in my eye.”
“That’s what my mama always says when she’s been a-crying. What’s wrong, Miss Macleod?” His gaze shifted to the mare. “Is she still sick?”
Kirsten nodded. “Calum’s gone to get help.”
“Aw. Don’t you be a worrying. When my pa got real sick, he said he was too ornery to die. And I reckon Briagha is every bit as ornery as my pa. And he’s just fine now.”
A small laugh escaped her despite the trembling in her belly. “She’s no’ ornery, just prefers no’ to let everyone climb on her.” She frowned. “Why are you here at night?”
The young boy dropped his chin to his chest and scuffed the toe of his worn shoe in the hay. “Pa says on account of all the thieving going on, I shouldn’t have left my knife and bag here. Said it was my responsibility to come get it, seeing I left it.”
He lifted his head enough to peek beneath his brow. Kirsten drew in a deep breath. Things had started coming up missing two weeks ago. A shovel, a hoe, cotton bags, it didn’t seem to matter how big or how small the item. But enough had disappeared that the cost began to add up. If she couldn’t stop petty thefts on the plantation, how did she think she’d be able to make a profit? She pushed the unsettling thought away. “You’d better gather them up and get on home. It’s getting late.”
Sammy scooped his things off a bale of hay and darted back out the door as he yelled over his shoulder. “I’ll be sure to say a prayer for her. Even if she is ornery.”
The wind picked up, whistling through the trees and sending the leaves into a frenzied dance, drowning out the young lad’s footsteps. Rain was the last thing they needed right now. The mud and lack of sunlight would surely impede Calum’s return and possibly Briagha’s outcome.
♥♥♥
Silas Westbrook’s insides quaked at the insurmountable task ahead of him. He leaned his head against the wood frame and gingerly pulled the bedroom door closed. How could he care for his two young siblings? He knew absolutely nothing about young’uns.
His brother’s face glimmered just beyond clarity, his eyes full of childish trust. Silas blinked away the image. No, he shouldn’t have been entrusted with such responsibility. He’d let him down. He’d let them all down. A whimper came from inside the room, and he peeked back in. Johnna slept in the middle of their father’s bed, one arm slung over her sister’s head.
Mattie sat up and crawled to the end of the bed, then curled into a ball. The hurricane lamp, on low, highlighted her golden curls splayed about her head, giving a halo effect. Silas waited until her breathing resumed an even pace, then slipped back in the room.
The quilt his mother had lovingly made lay folded over the quilt rack next to the wall. He knew its rainbow of colors, could still picture the different floral designs of each square. She’d made it when he was five, Johnna’s age. Poor Johnna could barely remember her mother now. A few more years and the memories would fade even more for the child.
With extra care not to wake her, he spread the blanket over his youngest sister. As he straightened to leave, horse hooves thudded up the dirt trail leading to their house. Silas hurried out of the room, pausing to make sure Mattie didn’t stir before carefully closing the door. He strode down the hall, grabbing his oil lamp and hoping to beat the pounding of the brass knocker.
As he stepped outside, the thump of boots hitting the ground reached his ears. A faint outline moved toward him and materialized into an old man. As he neared the light of the lamp, his white hair receding from an oval face was visible. He continued forward, stopping just feet away. Silas folded his arms before him. “Can I help you?”
“Aye. That you can. I have a sick horse I need you to come see.” The man spoke with a thick Scottish burr.
“I’m not a veterinarian.”
“Your da told me you were studying up in New York to be one.”
Silas lowered his arms to his sides. “That’s right. Studying. I haven’t finished, yet.” And now may never.
The old man pushed his shoulders back, raising him up another inch. “Surely you learned some things aboot horses while you were there. We’ll pay you, veterinarian or no’.”
Silas needed the money. He couldn’t find so much as five dollars around the house, and the cash he’d brought back with him was fast running out. “Where do you live? I can’t go far. I have my younger sisters sleeping in there.” He jerked his head toward the house.
The old man stuck out his hand. “Calum Campbell. Glad to finally meet you. I’m one of yer neighbors, and this is my loyal friend Fetch.” The man glanced down at a compact brown-haired dog at his side.
With its long sable hair and large white collar, the dog by all accounts looked much like a collie. However, it was much smaller. Its silky hair brushed the grass below it. With ears tipped, the animal looked up at him and cocked his head as if waiting for Silas to speak to him.
Silas turned his attention back to Calum and grasped his hand as he tried to remember if his father had mentioned the Johnsons moving away. He attempted to make out the man’s attire now that the moon had peeked out of the clouds and shed a pool of light over the darkness. The man’s stained pants and work shirt told him nothing. He had to be more than a stable hand to call himself a neighbor. “Did the Johnsons move?”
“Nay. They are still in the same house they have always lived in.”
Silas rubbed his chin as he tried to remember where this man lived. “I’m sorry, but I can’t place you.”
“I work at the Macleods’ place. Our properties join.” The man looked back nervously.
“Nice to meet you. I think you moved in sometime after I left for school.”
Calum nodded his head. “Your da was a guid man. I’m sorry for your loss. We sure were sad to lose him. There wasn’t a more helpful mon.”
A light breeze ruffled Silas’s hair and brought with it the smell of stalls in need of mucking. This farm, the children, the horses, they were his father’s life, his father’s love. What was he supposed to do with all of it? He swallowed the lump in his throat, thinking about the last three years of his father’s life that he’d missed.
Calum gently patted Silas’s back. “I ken it’s hard losing a loved one, and sorry I am that I must come to you now for help when you’re grieving so.”
Silas cleared his throat. “I’m staying busy, which keeps my mind occupied. We’d better get going. I don’t want my sisters to wake up and find me gone. Is the horse sick or injured?”
“She’s no’ been eating well for several days. I went in to check on her before turning in, and she’s making strange sounds—like she’s having a difficult time breathing.”
Silas stifled a groan. If it was what he thought— He’d seen distemper run through a farm infecting over half the herd. He glanced over at his stables. That was the last thing he needed to deal with right now. “Any other horses showing signs of illness?”
“Nay, only Briagha. I can’t let Miss Macleod see the horse die. She has had more than her share of loss these past few years. I suppose that’s why she sets such a store on the animal. The young filly lost its mother when she was a suckling.”
“I’ll get my horse.”
Silas detoured over to Jeremy’s cabin. The cottage sat closer to the stables than his father’s house—his house now. He stuck his head in the door. Jeremy had been around since Silas was a boy. He was the one worker left on the farm, but he was much more than a farm hand to him. “I have to run to the neighbor’s and see to their sick horse. Could you keep an eye on the girls for me?”
“Sure thing. Are they in bed?” Jeremy pushed back his chair from the table and stood.
“Yep. I checked on them before I walked out, and they were sound asleep. Appreciate it.” Silas pulled the door shut and hurried to the stables. Not bothering to saddle Remington for the short jaunt, he hooked the reins to the halter and in one swift move flung himself on the animal’s back. With a click of his tongue, the horse moved out and into the fading moonlit night.
Calum turned his mount toward the road, with his dog tagging alongside of him. “I can’t thank you enough, and I assure you the mistress will pay you well.”
“Is her father out of town?” He remembered hearing the wife had died on the trip over and they had one girl.
“Nay. Miss Macleod’s da passed on last year. The lass inherited the plantation.”
♥♥♥
Briagha shifted. The mare’s weight increased against Kirsten’s body, sending her feet scrambling to get a better foothold. “Nay, lass you have to stay up.”
Rumbling of thunder sounded in the distance, and she glanced out again. Clouds had quickly covered the once moonlit sky. “Hurry, Calum,” she whispered.
The chestnut’s ears twitched, and Kirsten turned her own ear toward the open barn door but heard nothing. “What is it, girl?” The thought of the thief again flashed through her mind. She pushed the thought away, reminding herself the barn was lit with lanterns. Not exactly a welcome sign for someone not wanting to be caught.
Briagha’s ears flickered again. That’s when she heard it. In the distance, horses’ hooves thudded on the hardpacked ground, and Fetch barked, giving her hope.
Kirsten slid her hand under the horse’s head and hugged her. “Calum brought you help, lass.” As she caressed the mare’s cheek with her fingers, they brushed over a lump. Swelling the size of a large potato protruded from the jawbone. She gasped. How had she missed that?
The riders drew nearer. Kirsten waited as the dark, moving shadows turned into men and horses.
The stranger, who Kirsten assumed was a veterinarian, was the first in the barn and off his horse, followed by Calum.
Kirsten pushed away from the mare in an attempt to lean around and get a better view of the jaw, realizing too late her mistake.
Briagha faltered. The man yelled something, but she couldn’t make it out. Kirsten dug her heels into the dirt floor and propped all her weight against the falling animal, to no profit. She couldn’t stop the thousand pounds of horse from crashing down on her.

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