Rocky Mountain Dreams & Family on the Range Danica Favorite (warren buffett book recommendations .txt) 📖

Odd looks followed her, but she ignored them and focused on remembering the way back to the Silversʼ. By the time she stood at Josie’s gate, the sun peeked a sleepy eye over the horizon.

She gnawed her cheek, staring at the wrought iron. Yesterday felt far away. Was she really ready to do this? She thought of the note she left to be delivered to Lou first thing. If he tried to stop her, well, that would be too much. Too invasive.

Perhaps he’d shared a dark and sad past, and perhaps he’d opened his home to her, but he did not control her and any claim he made to her time must end with his sale of the ranch.

A vehicle cranked up behind her, startling her and urging her to open the gate. It groaned but gave way. She started up the walk, up the stairs, but before she could knock on the door, it opened.

Baggs glowered at her. His eyebrows were just as furry today as they’d been yesterday. Mary remembered Josie’s comment and a reluctant smile tugged at her lips.

“You again?” he muttered.

“Yes, it is Miss O’Roarke. May I speak with Mrs. Silver?”

“She has not risen yet.”

“Oh.” She blinked. “I can come back later.”

“You may wait. She’ll be about soon.” The butler, or whoever he was, swung the door open in a reluctant fashion, but Mary was too determined and set in her path to care.

She stepped into the ornate home. A hint of perfume reached her. Baggs led her into the same room they’d met Mrs. Silver in yesterday. She took a seat on the brocade couch.

“Anything to drink? Tea, perhaps?”

“That is kind of you to offer, Mr. Baggs. I would very much like tea.”

He shuffled out of the room, closing the door behind him. She studied the great portraits about the room. Studious and elegant, they dominated the walls and lent the room a somber air. Soon Josie’s painting would rest with those of her ancestors, if she was related to these people. No doubt she was related somehow to the man looking for her.

Langdon, the sheriff had called him.

She did not wish to remember how it felt for him to be standing in her home, her sanctuary.... Stifling the remembrance, she felt through her bag until she found her knitting needles and newest project. A wedding gift for Miss Alma, who no doubt would find James by her side very soon.

The door opened, and Baggs brought in a platter with steaming tea. He situated it, and Mary thanked him, preferring to pour her own. “Do you not have a maid?” she asked in a gentle tone.

“Left us last week,” he grumbled.

When he left, she sipped the strong brew and worked on Miss Alma’s gift. The wait felt interminable. She kept straining to hear Josie’s happy voice. The patter of footsteps even, but nothing broke the muted silence.

After almost an hour, the door opened again. Baggs wheeled Mrs. Silver in. She did not wear a face mask today. The faded state of her eyes and pallor of her skin sent prickles across Mary’s body. She tucked her knitting back into her bag. An air of death cloaked Mrs. Silver. It hovered over her and as she neared, the odor of it filled the room.

Mary blanched and then schooled her features to blankness, though inside, her heart pounded against her chest. What would happen to Josie when her mother passed? Surely she wouldn’t be left with that horrid Mr. Langdon.

“You wish to see me?” Mrs. Silver’s voice did not pass a whisper.

Mary nodded, putting her hands in her lap. “I thought perhaps you might...” Courage, don’t fail me now. She wet her lips and tried again. “With your illness, I hoped you might be in need of a nanny for Josie.”

Mrs. Silver’s lids fluttered.

“Your daughter is spirited and bright and I have grown quite fond of her. I can provide schooling in many areas—”

“She will attend a private school,” Mrs. Silver murmured. She studied Mary, though it seemed to drain the energy from her features.

“I see.” Hope seeped away, but she did not allow herself to slump. “Perhaps you might be looking for a housekeeper? Or a parlor maid?”

“You are so desperate to see my Josephine?”

“Not desperate, but I am in search of employment and I care deeply for your daughter. I would like to help.”

Mrs. Silver’s fingers tapped the arms of her wheelchair. “It fills my heart with gladness to see your love for my daughter, but I must refuse.”

Mary’s fingers tightened on her satchel.

“You see, her uncle shall be in charge of any plans for Josie. She is at the age where she would benefit from the structure of such a pla—” A harsh cough ripped the rest of the words from her. She hunched over, body racked with the cough of tuberculosis. She pressed a hankie against her pale lips.

Mary watched sadly, knowing she should return to the hotel now. This had been a shallow hope with little chance of success, but she’d needed to try.

“I apologize,” Mrs. Silver said when the fit passed. Baggs handed her a glass of water and she sipped it gratefully.

“There is no need for apologies.” Mary rose. “Thank you for taking the time to meet with me. I would love to see Josie but do not want to unduly upset her. Please, may I leave my address with you? I’ve included the hotel I’m staying at, though I won’t be there after today.” She handed Mrs. Silver the paper she’d scribbled on earlier. “If you or Josie are ever in need of anything, write to me and I shall come.”

“Thank you...what is your name?”

“Mary O’Roarke, and you’re quite welcome.” She gestured to the door, the bag heavier than ever. “I shall let myself out.”

Mrs. Silver inclined her head and Mary headed to the doorway, eager to escape before her burning cheeks gave away her angst. She reached the door frame.

A