Savage Arrow

“Let me help you,” Reginald said, placing a hand at Jessie’s elbow and struggling as he tried to help her board the buggy, when she needed no help at all.

She could tell that he was trying to make a good impression on her. She had always bested him in everything . . . until now.

He was the rich one.

She was as poor as a church mouse.

As Reginald drove them back down the rutted street, Jessie found it hard to make conversation with him. He hadn’t even inquired about her trunk, which was obviously absent.

He didn’t inquire about her journey either, didn’t ask whether it had been comfortable, or safe.

They sat in a strained silence until they arrived at his ranch on the outskirts of town. It was then that Jessie truly understood the wealth of this man. He lived in a beautiful, sprawling ranch house. His spread reached out across a wide, beautiful valley. A flowing stream bisected it.

Indeed, it was an impressive sight.

She now also saw a corral full of beautiful horses. She could hardly wait to choose one for her personal use.

Out there, in the great open spaces, she could ride and ride and ride.

She might even happen upon Chief Thunder Horse’s village!

That thought was wrenched from her mind when the buggy pulled up in front of the long, low, rambling ranch house of hewn logs. It had shaded galleries and a comfortable-looking veranda running across the front.

The house was connected by an open walkway to a building that she assumed contained the kitchen and dining room, which was so often separated from the main house to minimize the danger of fire.

A garden of flowers stretched out luxuriant in front of the house.

“Jessie, welcome to my humble abode,” Reginald said as he stepped down and came to her side. He reached a hand toward her, helping her down from the buggy.

Reginald gently held her by an elbow as they went up the front steps. Inside, his wealth was even more evident to Jessie.

“My parlor,” Reginald said, leading her into a huge room dominated by a large stone fireplace.

The place was lavishly decorated. Jessie saw carved furniture, red velvet drapes, fine paintings on the walls, and deep, soft rugs covering the floors.

“May I introduce you to my maid, who is also my cook,” Reginald said as a short and plump yet lovely Chinese woman came into the room. She was dressed in clothes other than Chinese—a black dress with a white collar—and her black hair was coiled in a tight bun atop her head. But in her eyes Jessie thought she read some kind of warning.

“Her name is Jade,” Reginald quickly said, without bothering to introduce Jessie to the woman.

Jade bowed gracefully to Jessie.

Jessie returned the bow. “It’s so nice to meet you. I’m Jessie,” she murmured as the woman straightened her back and looked uneasily at Reginald.

“Go on with you now,” Reginald said to the servant, shooing her away with a flick of a hand.

Jessie watched the woman walk away in short, quick steps; then she turned her eyes back to her cousin, even as her mind turned to someone else. Jade reminded Jessie of the beautiful Chinese girl in the crib. She could not forget the shame on her face as men watched her and said filthy things to her.

She was uncomfortable with her thoughts, so she tried to center her attention on her cousin, who had been kind to invite her to live with him.

“Jessie, you must be so tired,” Reginald said, turning and walking toward his liquor cabinet. He looked at her over his shoulder. “I would like a glass of port. Will you join me?”

“Yes, that sounds nice,” Jessie said, truly liking the idea of having something to soothe her nerves.

He brought a crystal glass of wine to Jessie and gave it to her, then nodded toward an antique sofa.

“Let’s sit here,” he said, with his free hand taking Jessie’s elbow and guiding her down. “I had it shipped from New York. It’s comfortable, don’t you think?”

“Yes, quite,” Jessie said, sitting down beside him.