Lost Lady (James River Trilogy 2)

It wasn’t with glee that she thought about her future, but she had to plan something for her and the baby.

“Did you make this?” Regan asked, hungrily digging into the cake.

With pride, Brandy smiled. “If there’s one thing I can do, it’s cook. By the time I was ten I was doing all the cooking for my parents.”

“At least you have some talents,” Regan said grimly. “I’m not sure I can do anything.”

Brandy sat down at the old table. “I could teach you to cook. I was thinking of baking things and selling them to the people who pass through Scarlet Springs. We two could make enough to get by on.”

“This is Scarlet Springs? That’s the name of this place?”

Brandy gave her a look of sympathy. “I take it you just got on a stage and went to the end of the line.”

Regan only nodded as she finished her cake.

“If you’re willing to try and willing to work, I’d certainly like your company.”

They shook hands in agreement.

It took Brandy a week before she really began to believe that Regan could not cook, but it was ten days before she gave up.

“It’s no use,” Brandy sighed. “You either forget the yeast or half the flour or the sugar, or something.” Dumping a hard loaf on the table, she tried to stab it with a knife but couldn’t.

“I’m so sorry,” Regan said. “I really try, I do.”

Eyeing her critically, Brandy said, “You know what you’re really good at? People like you. There’s such a sweetness about you and you’re so damned pretty that women like you and want to take care of you, and so do the men.”

Travis had once wanted to take care of her, but it hadn’t lasted long. “I’m not sure you’re right, but what sort of talent is that?”

“Selling. I’ll cook; you sell. Look sweet on the outside, but drive a hard bargain. Don’t let anyone get away with paying less than we ask.”

The next day the stage brought six people to meet others who camped outside Scarlet Springs, waiting to start the journey West. On impulse, Regan raised the prices of the baked goods, and no one questioned them but bought everything.

That afternoon she spent all the money she and Brandy had. Three of the settlers traveling West had overloaded their wagons, and they meant to throw their excess lanterns, rope, and a few pieces of clothing into the river. They were angry and wanted to make sure no one could use what they’d paid for. Regan offered to buy all of it. After running all the way to the farmhouse, she grabbed all their money from the box and paid it to the settlers.

When she returned with the merchandise, Brandy was furious. They had no money, their supplies were nearly empty, and they had a room full of equipment no one wanted.

For three days they lived on apples pilfered from an orchard four miles away, and Regan was ridden with guilt.

On the fourth day, new settlers came to Scarlet Springs, and Regan sold all the goods for three times what she’d paid for them. Crying in relief that everything had worked out, Regan and Brandy hugged

each other and danced around the kitchen.

It was the beginning of everything. With this first good sale they gained confidence in themselves and each other. Both women began to look ahead to what they could do.

They struck a bargain with the farmer who owned the apple trees and purchased all his fallen apples in exchange for very little money and a loaf of bread a week from Brandy for the next six months. At night Brandy and Regan peeled and sliced apples and put them out to dry in the next day’s sun. When they were dry they sold them to the westward-traveling settlers.

Every penny they made, every bargain they struck, increased the size of their business. They were up before dawn, to bed very late. Yet sometimes Regan felt she’d never been happier. For the first time in her life she felt as if she were needed.

It was during the fall that they began taking in boarders and serving meals. People came to Scarlet Springs too late to go West and had no wish to return to where they’d once lived. One man explained that his hometown had given him a going-away party, and he couldn’t face returning, saying he’d missed the wagons.

Regan and Brandy looked at each other, smiled contentedly, and told the man they’d take care of him. By Thanks-giving they had six boarders, and they were all jammed on top of one another.

“Next year I’m putting down pickles and kraut,” Brandy said, looking in disgust at a meal of little else but wild meat. She stopped her complaints when she looked at Regan.

Regan stood unsteadily, her stomach well out in front of her. “If you will excuse me,” she said in the quietest possible voice, “I believe I’ll go upstairs and have a baby.”

Brandy, angered, grabbed her friend’s arm and helped her up to the bedroom they now shared. “No doubt you’ve had pains all day. When are you going to stop feeling like you’re a burden and start asking for help?”