Cassandra Austin - Hero Of The Flint Hills

Turning back into her room, she eyed the quiltcovered bed. She should lie down and rest before dinner as Hugh had suggested, but it didn’t sound attractive. Closing her eyes would bring forth images of her father dying, her lost home, her friend, Amanda, so far away. She felt a need to stay busy.

A china basin with matching pitcher sat on a shaving stand. Relieved to find the pitcher full, she quickly washed her face and fixed her hair.

Coming down the stairs was a marvelous experience. She could look down on the rustic living room or the simple dining room or out the tall glass door a few feet from the base of the stairs onto the valley below. The latter commanded most of Lynnette’s attention. She couldn’t resist stepping out on this center, square balcony and looking across the valley again. She wasn’t sure if it was the colors, the feeling of flight, or the sheer openness that most attracted her. If she would be allowed to spend all summer on one of these balconies, she knew she would be happy here.

“It’s quite a view, isn’t it?” Hugh’s voice startled her, and she turned to find him on the corner balcony off the dining room.

“It’s lovely,” she said.

“That’s precisely why I chose the back of the house for my study. I’d never get any work done as long as I could see this.”

“To me this seems like a lovely place to work. I can imagine bringing paper and ink here and writing to my heart’s content.”

Hugh laughed. “You might watch all your papers fly across the valley with a sudden gust of wind.”

Lynnette looked out, trying to picture it It was so lovely and peaceful. She shook her head. “I’d take my chances.”

“Be my guest I’ll have Jake move a desk out for you, if you’d like.”

“I’m sure I’ll manage something simple.” She heard footsteps in the dining room. Martha setting the table, she guessed. “I should leave you to your contemplation,” she said.

“Shirking,” he corrected. “Merely shirking, my dear.”

She smiled. “Whatever. I leave you to it.”

Lynnette closed the balcony doors behind her and moved toward the table. She returned Martha’s shy greeting. “May I help with dinner?” she asked.

“That’s not necessary, miss,” Martha said, unfolding a crisp white cloth on the long table.

Lynnette caught one corner of the cloth and helped her spread it evenly. “I’m not used to being waited on. I’d really like to help. That is, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course not, but you’re supposed to be resting like Miss Emily.”

Lynnette followed Martha to a beautiful china cupboard. “I won’t tell if you don’t,” she whispered.

Martha showed Lynnette where the dishes and silver were and which four places to set, then returned to the kitchen. In a few minutes, the table set, Lynnette followed. A man, several years older than Martha, was laying plates out on a long plank table. He worked effectively in spite of a crutch under one arm.

“You must be Perry,” she said.

“You must be Arlen’s Miss Sterling.”

Lynnette shook the callused hand he offered, pleased by the friendly greeting. Martha was at the stove and seemed surprised to see Lynnette actually in the kitchen. “What can I do now?” Lynnette asked her.

“There’s a bowl of wildflowers on the counter that can go on the table.” She nodded toward them.

Lynnette smiled, taking the hint. Martha was efficient and there were no jobs left this late in the preparations. She took up the bowl of flowers, sniffing their pungent odor. “It was nice meeting you,” she told Perry on her way past. He nodded in response.

The flowers on the table contrasted well with the fine bone china and crystal. Refined, yet simple. She cocked her head to one side, studying the table, searching for better words to describe it. Comfortably elegant, she thought.

“Do you approve?”

Lynnette’s hand flew to her heart as she jumped. Christian stood at the base of the stairs, one hand on the banister. His hair was damp around his face. He looked comfortable enough to have stood there for several minutes.

“I didn’t hear you come in,” she said, when she found her voice.

He smiled, but it wasn’t the unrestrained smile she had seen him give his sister. “That’s because I was here first.”

Lynnette laughed, hoping to break some of the tension that seemed to exist whenever he looked at her. “I was too intent on the flowers, I suppose.”

He nodded. “Is Emily down yet?”

She shook her head. “I could get her, if you’d like.”

“I’ll do it.” He turned and went up the stairs two at a time. Lynnette realized she watched him until his legs disappeared.

“Whom shall I annoy next?” she mumbled.

Not wanting to bother Hugh on the balcony and feeling unwanted in the kitchen, she moved into the living room. The room contained none of the decorative finery that cluttered Felicia’s home in Topeka. She had discovered a shelf of Indian artifacts when she heard Christian’s boots on the stairs.

“Is Emily ready?” she asked, turning to greet him.

“She’s fixing her hair.”

He walked into the room, studying her much as though she were some strange artifact herself. She was relieved when Hugh, donning his suit coat, ambled into the room.

“Ah, you’ve found my treasures,” he said, moving to her side. “These were all found on our ranch at one time or another.” He pointed out several arrowheads, inviting her to hold them and examine them up close. There was also a piece of a clay pipe.

“This is my favorite.” He lifted a large stone ax head and handed it to her. Lynnette rubbed the cold smooth surface, surprised at how heavy it was. She set it carefully back in its place.

They heard a door upstairs open and close. “Well,” Hugh said, offering her his arm. “Bad enough to bore you with my hobbies without keeping you from dinner in the process.”

They met Emily at the bottom of the stairs, and Hugh directed everyone to their seats. Lynnette and Emily were on either side of Hugh at the head of the table, and Christian took the seat beside Emily.

Emily had changed out of her traveling clothes into a simple gown of pale green lawn. She looked refreshed and lovely with her hair piled on her head and tumbling down the back in natural curls.

It occurred to Lynnette that both Emily and Hugh had dressed for dinner. It was a custom she had forgotten since her father’s illness. She would have felt out of place in her traveling dress if it hadn’t been for Christian, at ease in his open shirt with the rolled-up sleeves.

Hugh asked a brief blessing and Martha, evidently waiting for their arrival, entered, carrying a platter piled with thick steaming steaks.

“I told Martha Miss Sterling’s—Lynnette’s—first meal at the ranch had to be our own beef.” He took the platter from Martha who returned to the kitchen. He speared a huge slab of meat and held the platter for Lynnette. She was grateful that a few pieces were cut more to her appetite. She stabbed the juicy steak with her fork as he had done and put it on her plate.

Martha returned with potatoes and gravy and then with corn and bread, all of which she set near Hugh’s place. He served the women, then passed them to Christian. “Holler if you want more,” Christian said, taking up his knife and fork.

“When’s Arlen coming home?” Emily asked.

“Tomorrow, I believe,” her father said. “I’m sure he’ll return as soon as possible.” He gave Lynnette a warm smile.

Lynnette returned the smile shyly. She almost dreaded Arlen’s return. That was foolish; he was the reason she was here.

“I think we should have a party,” Emily suggested, evidently feeling her numerous hints had failed in their purpose.