Santa Fe Woman

© 2006 by Gilbert Morris

All rights reserved

Printed in the United States of America

ISBN: 978-0-8054-3289-3

Published by B & H Publishing Group

Nashville, Tennessee

Dewey Decimal Classification: F

Subject Headings:

WEST (U.S.)—FICTION

OVERLAND JOURNEYS TO THE PACIFIC—FICTION

FRONTIER AND PIONEER LIFE—FICTION

AS JORI HAYDEN EMERGED from the house, she was met by a sharp, cold wind. The winter of 1822 had struck Arkansas with a blunt force, so that now all around Little Rock the creeks and rivers were frozen hard enough to support a heavily laden wagon. She noted thick columns of smoke rising straight from chimney tops only to be blown into formless masses that immingled with low-lying clouds.

Ignoring the freezing wind, Jori moved toward the stable, noting the breath of the cattle in the fields rising in little puffs. Entering the stable, she greeted the man who turned to face her. “Good morning, Caleb.”

“Not so good, Miss Jori.” Caleb House shook his head glumly. He was a short man with the shoulders of a wrestler. He stroked his droopy mustache with his thick fingers, adding, “Too cold for you to ride this morning. You could get pneumonia.”

“You’re a prophet of doom, Caleb,” Jori smiled. “It’s a fine day for a ride.” At the age of twenty-two, she had a curved, womanly figure with brilliant black hair. Her face was too square for beauty, but her eyes were so unusual that most never noticed that. Large, well spaced, and shaped like almonds, her eyes were a striking shade of sea green with flecks of gray. They
were sharp and alert, at times flaring with anger, but now were dancing with humor. “Your favorite book in the Bible must be Lamentations, Caleb. It’s a beautiful world, and you need to see it.”

“When you’ve been flattened by this ‘beautiful’ world a few times, you’ll see it different,” Caleb said morosely. “I suppose you want me to saddle the mare?”

“Yes, please.” Turning to make her way to a stall, she reached out and stroked the silky nose of the mare that arched her neck over the gate. “Ready for a run, girl?” She laughed as the mare nibbled her fingers, then reached into her side pocket and brought out the quartered slices of apple. She stepped aside and watched as Caleb put on the saddle and bridle, then, without waiting, hoisted herself at once into the saddle. “Thanks, Caleb,” she called, then shot out of the stable, putting the mare into a fast gallop.

Caleb stared after the young woman dolefully, then shook his head. “Going to break her neck riding like that! She’s had it too easy and thinks the world’s a playground. She’ll get that knocked out of her one day—just like we all do.” He spoke to the large, mustard-colored dog who sat watching him, then turned and moved down into the depths of the stable.

* * *

THE COLD HAD ROUGED Jori’s cheeks and put a sparkle in her eyes. She was a young woman of great vitality, generous and capable of robust emotion. She loved challenges, and now her blood was up as the mare drove forward. Jori felt the strength of the horse flowing up, touching her legs, and coursing through
her body. “Go, Princess!” she cried, and leaned forward delighting in the speed of the mare. She was vaguely aware of the trees on each side that stood stiffly reaching upward and of the gusting wind that sent up the dead leaves in a whirlwind cloud. It was a gaunt world, but when Jori was astride a fine horse, weather meant nothing.

Looking up, Jori saw Gerald Carter, her fiancé, and Clyde Hammond waiting for her. Pulling Princess up shortly, she kicked her feet free from the stirrups and slid to the ground still holding the reins tightly. Her face was flushed, and she made an attractive picture as she stood there. Her black hair escaped from beneath her green cap, and her green eyes were sparkling. “Gerald, did you see us?”

“Should think I did, but you moved so fast I almost missed you.” Gerald Carter was no more than five eight, exactly Jori’s height. He was not particularly good-looking but had a pleasant, thin face. His eyes were well shaped and of an attractive blue color, and there was an air of gentleness about him. He was wearing a dark brown overcoat and a hat made out of prime beaver. A large diamond sparkled from his left hand as he raised it and stroked his cheek. “A bit cold for trying out horses,” he suggested.

“No, any day’s a good day for fine horse flesh.” Clyde Hammond was a large man made more bulky by multiple sweaters covered by a buffalo overcoat. The tip of his cigar made a red dot against the gray surroundings. His nose was lined with veins, and his eyes were red rimmed. The odor of alcohol was strong on him, but despite his drinking habits, he was known as the best judge of horse flesh in the state. He had brought the mare to the Hayden stables in hopes of selling her. “How did you like her, Miss Jori?”

“She’s a fine one, Clyde,” Jori said, her eyes dancing. She reached up and patted the horse on the neck. “I’ve got to have her! Come now, give me a good price.”

Hammond took his cigar out, examined it thoughtfully as if the price lay there, then shrugged his beefy shoulders. “Couldn’t part with her for less than fifteen hundred.”

“Fifteen hundred dollars!” Gerald Carter was shocked. He was generally shocked at the price of horses, for he knew almost nothing about them. For him, horses were a means of getting from one place to another, and he could never understand how Jori loved them with such passion. “Why, you could buy a nice house for that!”

Jori handed the lines of the mare over to Clyde and took Gerald’s arm. She enjoyed making bargains, and both the men were aware of the rich, racy current of vitality in her. “But you couldn’t ride a house the way I’ve just ridden Princess there.”

“No, but if that animal got sick and died, you’d be out fifteen hundred dollars.”

“Oh, don’t be such a fussbudget, Gerald!” Turning to Hammond, Jori said, “I’ll think about it, Clyde. You’ll have to do a little bit better on the price.”

“Not for this animal, Miss Jori,” Hammond shook his head woefully. “I’ll be losing money on her as it is.”

“That’ll be the day when you lose money on a horse! Come along, Gerald.”

The two left, and as they made their way toward the buggy that waited over by the stable, Jori spoke enthusiastically about the speed and the beauty of the mare. “She’s exactly what I want, Gerald. Surely you can see that.”

“She costs too much.”

“Oh, don’t be so miserly!”

Gerald handed her into the buggy, then walked around and got inside. He took up the lines, but before he spoke to the horse, he turned to her. “You know, Jori, this has been a bad year for business. A lot of them have gone down. You need to be more careful about money.”

“You worry too much.” Jori suddenly reached over, took his chin, and turning his head to face her, she gave him a light kiss. “After we’re married I’ll be demanding all kinds of expensive things.”

Gerald could only grin in a doubtful fashion. He knew the two of them were very different and, at times, felt uneasy about how they would get on. But now the dance of laughter in her green eyes and the humor in the set of her lips caught at him. “I expect that’s your plan. But it won’t be like that. You can do as you please before we’re married, but afterward I will expect you to be a beautiful wife, meek and humble.”

Jori was feeling exuberant after her ride and paid no heed to Gerald’s warning. She reached over and took the line from him. “Let me drive,” she said.

“You drive too fast.”

“There’s no such thing as driving too fast.” Jori spoke to the horse sharply and slapped the lines against his back, and the two were thrown backward as the horse leaned forward suddenly against the harness.

The ride home was quicker than if Gerald had been driving. When they pulled into the circular driveway in front of her home, Gerald heaved a sigh of relief. “Well, we didn’t get killed.” He took the lines from her, but for a moment he sat there looking at the house. “That’s a beautiful home your family has.”

“Been in our family forever. My great-grandfather built it for my great-grandmother. He was very romantic.”

The structure was a very large three-story frame house painted a lucent white, featuring a gambrel roof and a large interior chimney. The windows were all narrow but very long with dark green shutters flanking each side, and the front entrance to the house featured fluted white columns on either side of the massive door.

Gerald admired the house momentarily, then turned to her and said, “Jori, I really don’t think you should buy that horse. Have you been reading the papers lately? A lot of businesses have gone belly-up.”