Page 20 of Westbound Awakening

"You look like your father," the woman beamed at her and took her hands. "I am Elma." With a round face and bright brown eyes, Mae was further eased by the woman's smile.

Alan assisted unhitching Mae's horse and left with the beast towards where she assumed the barn was.

"Well that's it," John told her having returned to stand next to the wagon. He did not face her, but instead looked toward the porch where Alan was now pulling in her belongings through the door.

"This is John McClain who escorted me from Texas," Mae introduced him to Elma who began insisting he come inside for coffee and to rest.

John shook his head. "It's best if I get on my way, get to town before dark." His eyes met hers for a beat before he removed his hat and ran his fingers through his hair. "I'm not far. Send for me if you need anything." He went to the wagon and climbed onto the seat.

"John," Mae spoke to his back. He stopped but did not turn.

Seeming to understand they needed privacy, Elma scurried to the porch.

Mae walked around John and stood in front of him. He looked down at her, his impression impassive. "Thank you for escorting me," Mae began. "Please go see about your leg."

John nodded and remained without moving, seeming to wait for her to continue. She had so much to say, too many emotions churned inside that, if given free reign, she'd double over and falter. Instead she lifted her chin and looked him straight in the eye. "Goodbye John." She turned away and didn't stop until she stepped inside the house, closed the door behind her and slumping against it.

The darkened foyer was flanked on both sides with matching tall mahogany chests with gilded mirrors over them. Further down the hall, on the right, a large grandfather clock with a swinging pendulum counted off the seconds. Mae wanted nothing more at the moment than to fall into a bed and sleep. Cry from grief and exhaustion.

The sounds of the horse's hooves at a trot became softer taking John further way from her with every passing moment. How was it possible? She missed him already.

Elma rounded the corner. "Oh Senorita, you are inside. Come let me show you to your room. I will draw you a warm bath. I expect you would like to get some rest." The woman continued chatting, her cheerful disposition helping keep Mae from allowing sadness to engulf her.

Pointing out rooms as she went, the woman guided Mae down a wide hallway. Since most of the doors were open, Mae peered in as they passed to find a large kitchen, a formal dining room, a study and two bedrooms. Elma stopped at the larger one. Her bags were already inside. "Senor Hawkins is asleep. He will not wake until morning. I gave him a sedative. His bedroom is on the opposite side of the house." Elma's lips curved to a soft smile. It did not reach her eyes and she fingered the hem of her loose blouse. "He will be happy to see you tomorrow. Today you bathe, eat and rest."

Elma pulled long curtains back, the setting sun lightened the large room and Mae took the opportunity to look around. The room was inviting with a large bed covered in off white linens, on one side side, a rustic tables. On the opposite wall from the bed, there was a large vanity, on it a mirror and brush set as well as a vase of fresh blue wildflowers. She went to the window and looked out. Across the vast expanse of land she spied some trees and flowering bushes. A garden.

"It's lovely, thank you Elma," Mae told the woman who watched her with expectation.

When Elma left with a promise of tea and a hot bath, Mae remained at the window. The view was indeed beautiful, definitely a repose after days of hard travel. Her gaze traveled to the plush bed, but she did not move toward it. No matter how much she wanted to throw herself into the bed and find the escape of slumber, it was not the time, not now.

Later that night, Mae jerked awake and looked around confused until she realized the space was a large bedroom and not confined space of the wagon. It felt too large without John's warmth next to her. Her hand slid across the bed to the empty space; the sheets were cold under her palm.

He'd not told her how long he would remain in Hastings. "A few days."

Were the woman and son there?

Was John laying next to her now? Was she happy to see him?

No doubt anyone in a relationship with John would be ecstatic to see him again and welcome the handsome man with open arms. With an angry growl, she rolled away and yanked the blankets over her shoulder.

"Elma! Come now!" The hoarse shouts permeated through the fogginess of sleep and Mae instinctively knew it was her father. "Elma!"

Not too far, a door opened and hurried footsteps followed. Then nothing else. Mae considered if she should get up and see what was needed, but decided it was best to wait. There was no rush to face him and if he was having a hard time, she could possibly upset him further.

Restless now, Mae sat up and scanned the dimly lit room. She had to admit the house was elegantly decorated, no doubt the doing of her father's wife.

The time alone earlier had given her time to think. It was best if she spoke to her father, do what had to be done in quick order and remain only a few days before heading back to Virginia. This place was not for her.

First she'd insist her father leave anything meant for her to one of his legitimate children. If he expected to pay for his abandonment by gifting her the ranch, it was unnecessary.

A soft knock on the front door brought her out of her musing.

"Come in."

Elma stuck her head in and smiled. "Good morning senorita. Would you like some coffee or tea? Breakfast will be ready in an hour."

Mae shook her head. "You don't have to serve me. I can get it. Allow me to do for myself. It will give me something to do." She slid her feet off the bed. "As soon as I'm dressed, I'd like to come help you in the kitchen."