“And he asked if he could come callin’ on me and my parents this Saturday evenin’!” Bethanne exclaimed with excitement.
“Oh, Bethanne! That’s wonderful!” Briney giggled as the horse pulling the Kelleys’ buggy clip-clopped back toward town.
“It is, isn’t it?” Bethanne sighed. “And it’s all thanks to you, Briney—you and your wantin’ a horse of your own. I would never have had a reason to travel out to the Horseman’s place and talk to Charlie Plummer if it hadn’t been for you and your horse.”
But Briney shook her head. “Oh, I think Charlie Plummer would’ve eventually found his way to you one way or the other, Bethanne,” she playfully argued. “He’s had eyes for you long before today. That was plain to see.”
Bethanne blushed with delight. Then, being the courteous, caring young woman she was, she asked, “But tell me, how was your ride with the Horseman? Did you two stop for a bit of sparkin’ out under some big oak tree or anything the like?”
“Oh, heavens no!” Briney assured her friend—all the while wishing Gunner had at least tried to kiss her. She blushed at the memory of having been nudged into Gunner’s arms by Brown Bonnie, however. “Although, he did embrace me twice today.”
“What?” Bethanne exclaimed with excitement. “Do tell, Briney Thress! Do tell!”
Briney giggled with the pleasure of the memory of being held in Gunner’s arms. “Well, truth be told, the first time was my fault—because I was so excited in finally owning Sassafras myself that I actually threw my arms around his neck and embraced him with thanks.”
“Scandalous!” Bethanne teased with a wink. Briney smiled as Bethanne tugged on the lines a bit, saying, “Slow down, Matilda. Briney and I have a lot to discuss on this short trip home.” She smiled at Briney and prodded, “Go on.”
“When I realized what I’d done, I was just mortified, of course. I mean, how inappropriate was it for me to hug him like that?” Briney explained.
Bethanne rolled her eyes with exasperation, however. “So that’s it? You hugged him?”
“No, not all of it,” Briney told her. “When I realized what I was doing, I began to let go of him, only to find that he had wrapped his arms around me…and didn’t release me right away. So I stood there, admittedly overwhelmed with bliss, as Gunner Cole just held me in his arms—tight…right up against himself.”
“Ooo! How delicious, Briney!” Bethanne giggled.
“Oh, it was delicious! And that wasn’t even the end of it,” Briney continued. “Then when we were out riding together, we paused and dismounted so that he could show me some of his mares that will be foaling sometime at the beginning of the new year. And as I was turning away from the horses in preparation to leave, one of them nudged me from behind, and I went tumbling forward right into Gunner’s arms, again! And then he caressed my cheek with the back of his hand. And I tell you, Bethanne, I thought I might swoon dead away!”
Bethanne sighed with contentment. “You’re gonna end up marryin’ the Horseman, Briney. I just know it!”
“Oh, don’t be silly, Bethanne,” Briney said—although the daydream of marrying Gunner had been in Briney’s thoughts from the moment she had first set eyes on him.
“Nope. It’s true,” Bethanne insisted. “You’re gonna marry the Horseman, and I’m gonna marry Charlie Plummer, and we’ll both be so happy, you and I. Charlie’s going to start raisin’ his own horses too, you know. Mr. Cole has already helped him to secure some property nearby so they can work together with the horses.” Bethanne tossed her head with joy. “Life is going to be wonderful for us, Briney! Just wonderful!”
Briney shook her head, however, for as much as she wanted to believe what Bethanne was hoping would come true—Briney one day marrying Gunner and Bethanne one day marrying Charlie—it just seemed far too inconceivable that everything would work out to be as perfect as the ending of a storybook.
“You’re quiet,” Bethanne noted. “It means your doubtin’ what I just said. But don’t doubt, Briney. Wish and hope and have a little faith. I’ve already seen it in my mind’s eye. We’ll both be married and settled down by the end of the year.” Bethanne smiled, adding, “Long before the Horseman’s mares foal.”
“I wish I had your confidence, Bethanne,” Briney admitted. “But for pity’s sake, I hardly know the man!”
“Oh, I see that sparkle in your eyes, Briney Thress,” Bethanne said. “You’ve been daydreamin’ about him since the day you met him, haven’t you?”
“Daydreams are only fantasy, Bethanne,” Briney answered, avoiding a direct affirmation that Bethanne had hit the nail squarely on the proverbial head. “They don’t really come true. Or at least, they rarely do.”
But Bethanne’s brows suddenly furrowed into a frown as Matilda pulled the buggy into Oakmont.
“What’s goin’ on, I wonder?” Bethanne asked.
Following Bethanne’s gaze, Briney felt a frown furrow her brow as well. A large, ornate carriage was waiting in front of the boardinghouse—rigged to two beautiful black horses. Briney had seen this type of carriage before—in big cities she’d visited with Mrs. Fletcher. This was the conveyance of the wealthy, and a terrible anxiety began to rise in her.
As her mind whispered to her that the carriage in front of the boardinghouse surely had something to do with Mrs. Fletcher herself, and thereby Briney, she began to tremble with trepidation. Yet the sensible part of her thoughts reminded her that Mrs. Fletcher was dead. Therefore, it couldn’t be Mrs. Fletcher who had hired the ornate carriage to convey her to Oakmont.
And yet it was in that moment that Mr. Kelley stepped out of the boardinghouse front door, accompanied by a man Briney indeed recognized.
“Mr. Christensen,” Briney gasped in horror.
“Who?” Bethanne inquired. She looked to Briney, saying, “Briney! You’ve gone as pale as a ghost!”
“It’s Mr. Christensen…Mrs. Fletcher’s solicitor,” Briney breathed.
It was as if the joy had been sucked from her somehow. Just the sight of Mr. Christensen had drained Briney Thress of all happiness, all good things, all hopeful dreams and Bethanne’s prediction of Briney’s marrying Gunner.
“Why would he travel out here?” Bethanne again glanced to Briney. “To see you? Why?”
“I don’t know,” Briney admitted. “But I’ve learned from experience that wherever Mr. Christensen goes…misery always follows.”
And it was true. Briney remembered the first time she met Mr. Christensen—in a court of law when the legalities of Briney’s adoption by Mrs. Fletcher were being finalized. It had been Mr. Christensen who had set down the parameters of Briney’s leaving the orphanage to become a ward of Mrs. Fletcher, Mr. Christensen who had drawn up the documents stating that Briney would not be allowed to share the Fletcher family name, that she would have no inheritance of the Fletcher family fortune, that she would be only a ward and companion of Mrs. Fletcher, and that when Mrs. Fletcher no longer had need of Briney’s company or service, Briney would then make her own way in the world.
Of course, everything Mr. Christensen had informed the judge of as to Briney’s adoptive circumstances had been at Mrs. Fletcher’s instruction. Still, Briney resented a man who would bow to such demands where a young girl’s life was concerned.
“You’ve got your own life here, Briney,” Bethanne reminded her friend. She pulled Matilda to a halt behind the ornate carriage that had brought Mr. Christensen to town. “That mean old lady is gone! She can’t make your decisions for you any more. You’re free; remember that. No matter what her solicitor is here to do.”
Briney looked to Bethanne, choking back tears of foreboding. “But why is he here?” she asked.
“It doesn’t matter, Briney. Not a whit,” Bethanne told her. “Let’s just march up to him and find out why he’s here. He can’t hurt you, Briney. Not with that old badger dead and buried.”
Briney managed a nod in agreement. Bethanne was right: Mrs. Fletcher couldn’t control her life from the grave. Perhaps Mr. Christensen had only arrived to inform her that Mrs. Fletcher was indeed buried and that Briney was free of her forever.
“You’re right,” Briney said to her friend. “I’ll just walk straight up to him and find out his purpose. I well remember the stipulations he announced to the judge upon Mrs. Fletcher’s adopting me. I’m free of her…no matter what.”
“I’ll come with you,” Bethanne said, hopping out of the buggy and securing Matilda’s lines to the hitching post. “And Daddy’s right there too. You have nothin’ to fear, Briney. Not with all of us who love you so much at your side.”
Briney smiled, brushed a tear from her cheek, and choked in a whisper, “Thank you, Bethanne. Do you know no one has ever actually told me they loved me? Not that I remember, at least.”
“Well, I do!” Bethanne stated. “And so do Daddy and Mama…and your handsome Horseman. So have no fear, Briney Thress. Have no fear.”
Though Briney knew Gunner Cole didn’t love her, she felt he did like her—and Bethanne and her parents had shown her more kindness and love than she’d ever known. Therefore, gathering her courage, Briney stepped down from the buggy as well. And as Bethanne linked arms with her in showing support and care, Briney made her way toward Mr. Christensen.
“Well, here she is now,” Mr. Kelley said as Briney and Bethanne approached.
Briney couldn’t help but glance into Mr. Christensen’s carriage as she passed, and her heart plunged to the very pit of her stomach with anxiety when she saw two women wearing black mourning crape and veils and one man dressed in black still sitting inside the carriage.
“Who are they?” Bethanne asked in a whisper.
“Mrs. Fletcher’s children,” Briney managed to answer.
All at once, Briney began to tremble as memories of the ill treatment she’d suffered at the hands of Mrs. Fletcher’s children began to wash over her like a flood. Always taunting her, referring to her as the ugly orphan duck their mother had saved from the vile orphanage when she was first brought to their home, Nimrod, Mary, and Constance Fletcher had heaped so much misery upon Briney that, try as she might not to, she nearly loathed them.
Certainly, there was the fact that Constance, the youngest of Mrs. Fletcher’s children and only two years younger than Briney herself, had eventually changed her inward attitude toward Briney. Eventually, over the past few years, Constance had gotten to where she was almost kind to Briney—but only in private. And though she had ceased in saying hurtful, hateful things to Briney whenever her elder brother and sister were doing so, she did nothing in Briney’s defense. Thus, Briney had no fond memories of the Fletcher children—only a desire to never have to see them again. And yet there they were—sitting in a wealthy carriage in what was Briney’s haven from them and everything they represented.
“Ah, Briney,” Mr. Christensen sternly greeted, “we’ve been waiting for you near to an hour now.”
Briney opened her mouth to apologize, but it was Bethanne who answered, “We’ve been out ridin’ today.”
Briney found that Bethanne’s defense of her spurred her own courage, and she added, “Yes. I’ve been riding. And being that you did not send any sort of notification that you were traveling to see me, your wait was no one’s fault but yours, Mr. Christensen. I’m no longer subject to your whims.” Glancing into the carriage to see the startled expressions on the faces of Mrs. Fletcher’s children, Briney’s independence strengthened her even more, and she added, “As you should well remember, being that you were the one who drew up the terms of my leaving the orphanage for Mrs. Fletcher’s sake.”
Mr. Christensen’s beady eyes narrowed. His thin lips pursed, and he tugged at his coat lapel. Running cold-looking, boney fingers through his sparse gray hair, he said, “I’ve come with documents you must sign.”
“Documents?” Briney asked, frowning.
“Yes. Documents pertaining to Mrs. Enola Fletcher’s will…specifically her estate,” he informed her.
“I’m not mentioned in her will, Mr. Christensen,” Briney said, “another fact you are well aware of.”
Mr. Christensen’s lips pursed more tightly—though Briney would have thought it impossible for them to do so.
“Mrs. Fletcher’s surviving family—her children, Nimrod, Mary, and Constance—retained me to draw up documents for your signature, stating that you will in no way and never contest any part of Mrs. Fletcher’s will, that you will not attempt to lay any legal claim to any part of her estate, which she divided evenly between her three children.”
Briney burst into laughter. She couldn’t keep from it.
“Are you telling me that those three idiots truly think I would want anything at all to do with any part of Mrs. Fletcher’s estate?” she asked him through her astonished amusement. Again she laughed. “You might as well assume I’d want someone to hand me over a souvenir of purgatory!” Again Briney laughed, this time at the sudden and complete feeling of freedom she was experiencing in that moment.
“Oh, do please present your documents to me, Mr. Christensen,” she began, “that I may read them, sign them, and send you and Mrs. Fletcher’s selfish progeny on your way!”
“Really, Briney,” Mr. Christensen said as be began to leaf through the papers in his satchel, “I would’ve expected more gratitude from you. After all, Mrs. Fletcher did provide you with a lifestyle that most orphan girls would have—”
“Stop! Cease in speaking!” Briney demanded. “Present your papers to me, and do not speak again until I’ve read them.”
“Damn right,” Mr. Kelley mumbled, frowning with disgust as he studied Mr. Christensen.
Mr. Christensen did indeed hand a paper to Briney. And as she read it over, she found herself giggling at the nonsense of it all. It was nothing but a bunch of legal jargon stipulating that Briney promised never to contest any part of Mrs. Fletcher’s will—never to attempt to gain any property, money, or any other items from Mrs. Fletcher’s surviving family.
In truth, as Briney read the document, her heart softened a bit toward Mrs. Fletcher, for the old woman had apparently known her children well—known that they would not feel any obligation to assist Briney financially in carving her own life. It was why Mrs. Fletcher had given Briney all the money in her possession before she’d passed. Briney knew then that as Mrs. Fletcher prepared to meet her Maker, she’d thought of Briney and known she would have no way to live—and that her own children certainly wouldn’t help the orphan she’d adopted as her companion. Whether Mrs. Fletcher’s intentions had been to face her Maker without any guilt where Briney was concerned or her heart had sincerely been softened toward the girl who had been at her side for ten years, in that moment, Briney was even more thankful that the old woman had secretly gifted her the large sum of money she had before giving up the ghost.
The document was simple and straightforward. In signing it, Briney was legally cutting any and all ties to the Fletchers and their fortune. Thus, Briney plopped down on the front porch of the boardinghouse, intentionally snapping her fingers at Mr. Christensen the way she’d seen Mrs. Fletcher do when she was demanding something of the man—flexing her wealth and position over him. It was not kind, of course, but Briney wanted to see Mr. Christensen and the Fletcher heirs on their way as quickly as possible.
“I assume you have ink and pen,” she said to him. “I mean to sign this document here and now and see you on your way.”
She glanced up to the carriage as Mr. Christensen began rummaging in his satchel once more in search of ink and pen.
“I suppose you three made this long trip simply to see for yourselves that you had no further fears of ever having to lay eyes on me again, hmmm?” Briney asked—though not in anger. For she truly was feeling free of it all—of wealth, of resentment.
“Yes,” Nimrod answered.
“Well, rest assured, Nimrod Fletcher, that I’m as happy to sign this as you are to see me sign it,” Briney said—again, not with malice, just a euphoric sense of freedom.
Briney dipped the pen tip into the ink Mr. Christensen had provided. And as she signed her name, she was joyous she was able to sign “Briney Thress” instead of “Briney Fletcher.” She’d always been glad Mrs. Fletcher hadn’t insisted Briney take her name—for it was all she had left of the parents she’d never known.
“There,” she said, blowing breath on the ink to hurry its drying. “For you, Mr. Christensen, with my thanks for bringing it to me.”
“Briney?”
Constance’s voice startled Briney, as she looked up to see that Constance had left the carriage and was standing over her.
“I…I found this among Mother’s things and wanted to give it to you,” Constance explained. As she offered a weathered wooden box about the size of a loaf of bread to Briney, she continued, “There’s a note inside. It says that these are the things that were brought with you when you entered the orphanage as a baby. They’re yours. I’m sorry Mother never gave them to you.”
“Constance!” Nimrod growled. “If Mother kept them from her, she had her reasons,” he scolded his sister.
Mary placed an arm on Nimrod’s shoulder, however, saying, “The box belongs to Briney, brother. You have what you came for. Now leave her be.”
“Thank you, Constance,” Briney said as she accepted the box. Her heart was hammering with excitement. Yet her joy at knowing there was something from her beginning—perhaps even something of her mother’s or father’s—was mingled with sadness at the stark realization she would never know them in her earthly life.
Looking up to Constance, Briney reached out and took one of Constance’s hands in her own. “Thank you, Constance. Truly. This means so much.”
To her astonishment, Constance reached down, throwing her arms around Briney’s neck. “We treated you so terribly, Briney! I’m so very sorry!”
Returning Constance’s embrace, Briney said, “I wish you only happiness, Constance. And thank you for the box. I will treasure it always and always be thankful that you thought of me enough to see that I received it. Thank you.”
Constance brushed tears from her cheeks and hurried back to the carriage.
Mr. Christensen had his pen, ink, and legal document secured in his satchel once more. “That concludes our business then, Briney,” he said, offering Briney his hand as she stood.
“Miss Thress,” Briney corrected him as she shook his hand politely. To Briney’s way of thinking, Mr. Christensen had no right to call her by her first given name. He was no friend or intimate acquaintance.
With pursed lips of aggravation and offense, Mr. Christensen stepped up into the carriage.
“Our business is finished here, Mr. Fletcher,” Mr. Christensen pouted.
“Driver!” Nimrod growled.
As the carriage carrying the Fletcher heirs and their solicitor drove away, Briney’s heart felt lightened and free of resentment and fear.
“Welcome home for good, my girl!” Mr. Kelley exclaimed, drawing Briney into a tight, loving embrace. He chuckled, adding, “You sure gave that lawyer fella a dose, didn’t you?”
“I was too harsh, I’m sure,” Briney admitted, feeling somewhat guilty for her terse manner.
“Ah, hell! They deserved it,” Mr. Kelley assured her.
Bethanne smiled at Briney, offered an affectionate embrace, and then asked, “What do you suppose is in the box?”
Briney shrugged. “I don’t know.” Smiling, she added, “How about we find a table in the restaurant, ask your mama if she has any pie left, and see? What do you say?”
“I say, let’s!” Bethanne giggled.
*
That evening, after Briney had finished having supper with the Kelley family, she retired to her room. Although she hoped to hear Gunner’s voice outside her window, Mrs. Kelley had mentioned that Gunner had not come to have supper at the restaurant that night.
Although Briney was disappointed that tonight she would have to imagine his voice as she went to sleep instead of actually hearing it, she was glad to have the box Constance had given her. She knew it was something she would cherish, love, and look through for all the days of her life. And with Gunner apparently supping at his own house that night, Briney decided to savor the tender feelings the box’s contents evoked in her for the fourth time that same day.
The box was simply made and old. Inside it held very little, but the few items it cached were priceless to Briney.
Sitting on her bed with the box on her lap, Briney opened it, removing what had instantly been her favorite treasure—a silver locket. Carefully she opened the locket, gazing at the two tintype images placed inside it, one on each half of the locket. These were her parents. A note had been left wrapped around the locket, with the words, Sean and Bindy Thress. Parents of Briney Thress, lost to typhoid fever when Briney was aged 1 year.
Her mother had been beautiful and her father so very handsome! Upon seeing the images in the locket, Bethanne had remarked that Briney was the very image of her mother—and that knowledge warmed Briney’s heart to the core. Now when she looked in the mirror, she knew it was a refection akin to her mother’s.
There was a small quilt in the box as well, and Briney could not help but wonder whether her own mother had stitched it for her. It was likely she had. Also in the box was a small toy horse carved from a piece of wood. She wondered whether her father had carved it, and her heart felt that he did.
Other than a note written by an unnamed person—stating that the box and its contents had accompanied the admittance to the orphan asylum of Briney Thress and that the box and its contents should be presented to her upon her dismissal from the institution—that was all the box contained: a locket, a small quilt, and a whittled toy horse.
But to Briney it was more than enough, more than she’d ever had before—a connection to her parents and her true self.
Briney closed the box, placing it carefully in her trunk at the foot of her bed. And though she slipped beneath her blankets disappointed that Gunner’s voice wouldn’t be lulling her to sleep that night, she was so soothed by a sense of knowing who she was—who her parents had been—that her mind felt at peace in a way it never had before.
She determined that in the morning she would walk out to the Horseman’s ranch. She would take the tin of coins with her and bury it deep in one corner of Sassafras’s stall. Then she would ride out on her own horse to wherever she and Sassy decided to ride. And if she were lucky—if the fates were being kind—perhaps Gunner would ride out with her again.
Briney smiled as she laid back in her bed and thought of Gunner. Perhaps Bethanne was right. Perhaps Briney could win the heart of the handsome horseman for her own. After all, this one day had gifted things to Briney she never would have dreamed it could have—the longed-for knowledge of her past and her parents, a horse of her own, and a rather shocking measure of affectionate flirtation from the man she had already fallen in love with.
Closing her eyes, she imagined the kind of home she would make for Gunner if she did win him—the kind of home she’d forever longed for herself but never thought she would be blessed to enjoy. A small, cozy home with a warm hearth fire on cool nights, before which she and Gunner would settle to rest after a day of hard work. A home that ever smelled of fresh-baked bread, pies, and warm stew, where the prevailing sounds were the kind and loving words exchanged between parents and children, and the moments of happy laughter the family would share. Beds would be clean and comfortable, with white sheets and quilts Briney herself would stitch. And above all else there would be love.
It was a far-fetched imagining at best. But Briney chose to drift to sleep on the wings of it. If Gunner’s voice couldn’t carry her to slumber that night, then her hopes and dreams of him would.
“Gunner Cole,” Briney whispered to herself. “Gunner and Briney Cole,” she softly giggled. “Oh, what heaven would that be?”