A Headstrong Woman

A Headstrong Woman

Michelle Maness

© Wendy Michelle Maness

This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to anyone living or deceased is coincidental. This book may not be reproduced in whole or in part without prior written permission.

This book is dedicated to Sherri Hopper. Thanks for being my guinea pig and reading and critiquing my work, often before it is even finished. I couldn’t have done it without you.

Prologue

Jonathon Stewart watched as the coffin containing his wife and their stillborn daughter was lowered into the ground. Thunder rumbled overhead as wind whipped rain over those gathered at the graveside. The other mourners stood huddled together sharing umbrellas and comfort. Jonathon stood alone as the rain that washed over him provided the tears that would not come. The deluge that started as they arrived at the graveyard had turned the rich Dakota soil into a sticky quagmire and now ran in rivulets over the mouth of the grave and was starting to fill the bottom. Jonathon shuddered. He and Emily had been eagerly awaiting their first child after a series of miscarriages and still births had left them disappointed. Now he was a widower.

As the minister stepped back from the hole in the ground, two men stepped forward to thrust their shovels into the wet pile of mud that stood at ready. The mud made a grotesque sucking noise as they lifted their load. The first clump of wet earth hit the coffin with a thud. Jonathon flinched as the sound exploded through him. The second clenched his hands into tight fist that wanted to strike in anger and despair but could find no target. Jonathon spun from the grave and moved toward his mount at a desperate pace.

His mind numb, Jonathon gave Raven his lead and in minutes they topped a low rise that overlooked his property. Jonathon stopped and surveyed the soggy landscape below him. A cabin sat in the bend of a creek; flowers along the side of the home bowed their heads under the weight of rainwater, and in the distance, just to the south of the home sat stables only a few feet from neatly plowed fields.

The rain and fog seemed appropriate, lending an air of mourning to a home that on any sunny day would have appeared cheerful and welcoming. Without Emily it would never again be either. Trying hard to ignore the onslaught of memories that assailed him, Jonathon swung from his saddle and pushed open the door. There was the crib draped in the baby blanket Emily had spent hours making; the rocker where she sat each night rubbing her belly and imagining what their little one would be like; their bed where they had shared their love and conceived the child that she had risked everything to have. With a growl of frustration Jonathon yanked open his chifferobe and began shoving things into his bags. Fifteen minutes later he emerged redressed in warm clothing and rain gear and with two saddlebags ready to go. He planned to start riding and not stop until he was forced to look for work.

“Where are you going?” his brother Ted demanded as he rode into the yard. Jonathon knew that his parents would be close behind.

“Away,” he swung into the saddle.

“Do you think you can out run this?”

“No, but I don’t have to stare reminders in the face on a daily basis either,” Jonathon told his younger sibling.

“So the rest of us mean nothing?”

“That is not what I said and you know it. I hope that you never understand what I’m feeling, Ted. I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy,” his voice was flat. He rode forward to meet his parents’ buggy; he knew his mother would try convincing him to stay.

“You’re leaving,” his dad’s eyes were sad but filled with understanding.

“I need some space to sort through everything,” Jonathon replied.

“Won’t you stay until the weather clears?” his mother pleaded.

“I love you, Mom, but I can’t.”

He watched her nod her understanding. “You’ll write?”

“I will; I love you all but I can’t stay. Maybe I’ll come back…. maybe I won’t but I can’t stay. Ted, will you look after my place? Any profit from the crop is yours.”

“I will,” Ted agreed, though he looked as happy as the storm clouds over head.

“Thank you. I should go,” he was impatient to put space between him and home.

Dorothy watched her son ride into the fog and hoped that he would find a place of healing. She could understand his loss, had experienced a similar loss herself; a life time ago it seemed. Watching her son now brought it all back. Nathaniel took her hand and she turned to offer her husband a small smile. He knew her story, had been the one to pick up the pieces and help her move on with her life. That was what her son needed now.

***

For once not stopping to mourn her height, Alexandria studied her appearance in the mirror. Alexandria stood an unfashionable five foot nine inches with a slim, willowy figure. Her black hair shimmered and shined in the sunlight that spilled through the window. Her mother had helped her pile the long tresses onto her head to leave her slender neck exposed; a single strand of pearls circled it. Her green eyes, as green as new spring foliage, were solemn but held a hint of hope. Her forehead and generous lips were lined with a hint of worry. Her high cheeks were flushed with excitement and her stubborn chin seemed softer. Not finding anything to take too serious of fault with she allowed herself to relax and smile. It was her wedding day! In an hour she would be walking down the aisle to marry the man she loved. She had feared it would never happen for her though her mother had never understood why. Alexandria knew, though, that she was not like other young women her age and she had feared that would scare the men away. She was too stubborn, too opinionated, and had too little feminine charms to her claim.

She smoothed the plain white skirt of her wedding gown and pivoted to admire it. It was free of bustle or adornment, a simple form-fitting bodice, with yards of creamy skirt. It was what she had always wanted her wedding dress to be. She could hear the crowds already starting to gather in the yard below.

“You look wonderful,” her mother commented from the doorway. Alexandria’s gaze met her mother’s in the mirror and she smiled.

“Thank you.”

“Are you nervous?”

“A little, mostly I’m excited.”

“Are you certain that… he’s a wonderful man but considerably older; you’re certain that this is what you want?”

“I’m certain,” she replied.

Her mother nodded. “It won’t be long now, almost everyone is here and is being seated; I’ll just go see if we’re ready.” Her mother turned and disappeared.

Alexandria gazed around her room one last time. This had been her room for her entire life. Anna, her younger sister, had been next door for as long as she could remember. They had always been close, at times sneaking into each other’s rooms to whisper and giggle their secrets to each other. What would it be like to be in a different home with her husband by her side instead? The silent question made Alexandria blush and consider the night ahead.

The door opened giving her reprieve from her thoughts as Anna entered. Alexandria once again mused that her sister was the more attractive of the two. Anna was a more feminine height at five foot five. Her hair was more brown than black and her eyes brilliant blue to Alexandria’s green. Her more petite size and large luminous eyes made her a favorite among the young men of their community.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Anna’s eyes were misty with tears. “I know sooner or later we’ll both marry but…” Anna paused and gathered her courage. “It’s too soon, Alexandria; I’m not ready.”

“I’ll miss you, Anna,” Alexandria commented.

“I’ll miss you too,” with that her sister was across the room hugging her. “Promise me you’ll visit often?”

“Of course I will,” Alexandria laughed. “I’ll only be a few miles away, Anna.”

“I know,” it came out on a sigh; Alexandria’s smile widened.

Looks weren’t the only place where the two of them differed; Anna had always been the more dramatic of the two while Alexandria tended to be more practical. It went along with everything else about her, she guessed.

Anna drifted to the window and Alexandria allowed her thoughts to wander to the events leading up to this day. She had known Elijah Morris her whole life. He had been friends with her parents for years, it wasn’t until his wife had died and left him with a toddler to rear that he had become more to her.

Word had reached her mother through one of Elijah’s ranch hands that Martha had succumbed to the illness that had plagued her. Shirley had promptly left to offer her assistance and had allowed Alexandria to accompany her. They had arrived to find a dazed Elijah sitting in the middle of what could only be described as chaos. Lilly was screaming at the top of her lungs and demanding her mother and nothing that her grandmother and Elijah’s housekeeper were doing would help. Shirley offered to help Elijah’s mother make decisions about the preparation of the body and instructed Alexandria to help with Lilly. Alexandria had begun singing to Lilly and slowly her screams quieted to intermittent sobs. Alexandria’s tender heart had turned over for the poor motherless child. Alexandria began stopping in frequently to help with Lilly, whose father seemed too lost in his own sorrow to help his daughter and over the course of the following months she had fallen for Elijah not caring that he was nineteen years her senior. When he had asked her to marry him seven months later she had been ecstatic and now the day had finally arrived.

“It’s time,” her mother announced as she reentered the room. Alexandria, ready to become a wife and step mother, turned and followed her mother.