Chase the Wind Read Online Free PDF Page A
eyes and nose, but the rest of her bore no resemblance to her sire. Maybe her height came from him, but upon reflection, she remembered her mother had been petite, too. His hair was brown, his eyes brown, his legs and arms were short, and he had a paunch. There was nothing of Melvin Taylor in Faith, certainly none of his personality. Why had her mother married the man?
A knock at the door interrupted her musings. It was Miriam.
“Did you have a nice nap?” she asked as Faith opened the door.
“Yes, I did.” Faith looked in confusion at the back of Miriam’s head as she came into her room. Miriam never came to her room; no one did.
“Your father and I have some good news.” Miriam smiled, an expression that never quite reached her eyes. “The Masons are having a ball to celebrate Randolph’s return from Europe and we’ve been invited. Your father has even decided that you will have a new dress.”
“A new dress?” Faith couldn’t believe her ears. The only new dresses she’d had recently were ones she had made over from her mother’s wardrobe.
Miriam examined the towel that was hanging over the dressing screen. “Yes, a new dress. How did this get so wet?” She held the towel out with the question.
“I left the window open a bit and the rain came in. I cleaned it up with the towel.” Miriam gave Faith a piercing look and dropped the towel in the chair.
“Tomorrow morning we shall visit the dressmakers and see what we can find,” Miriam said and made her way back to the door. She paused and looked around the room as if seeing it for the first time. The bedspread was rumpled and the pillows flattened. The quilt was hanging off the end of the bed where Faith had dropped it in her celebration spin. “Clean up this mess,” Miriam ordered and left the room.
The following Sunday there was a slight dusting of snow on the ground. Ian rode by the carriage as Faith was getting in after church and tipped his hat. He had left a note under her pillow the previous Sunday that said he would meet her in the loft of the barn. That was easy enough; she had only to wait until her father and Miriam retired for their afternoon nap. Then she would pay a visit to the necessary. With luck, they wouldn’t notice when she didn’t come back right away.
She found Ian sitting on a bale, looking out a small window that had been left ajar. He seemed tired. There was no wide grin, just a slight smile as he held out his arms to her.
“What’s wrong?” she asked when she was safely in the circle of his arms.
“The young prince has returned,” he said into her hair.
“Randolph?”
“Yes, the royal Mason heir, returned from his education and his world tour. The man is a brute.”
“What happened?” Faith leaned back on her heels to better see his face. He rose from the bale and ran his hands through his hair.
“He came into the stables with his stud,” he began. “He doesn’t know a thing about horses; he’s brought this big black war horse from England, calls him Armageddon.” His movements became agitated. “He wants to use him for breeding with my mares—I mean his mares.” His face was anguished, and Faith’s heart hurt for him. She knew how much he loved his charges, how he nurtured them. “He decided to ride Katrina yesterday. I told him she was too young and he was too big for her, but he wouldn’t hear anything but he was going to ride her.” He scrubbed his hands through his hair again. “The man near ruined her wind, and she’s lame in the foreleg.” Ian dropped back down on the bale and put his head in his hands. Faith rose up and put her arms around him. He wrapped his arms around her waist and put his head to her breast. She sensed the anger and frustration coursing through him and felt it too. Katrina was the bay that she had ridden. The mare was long-legged and delicate, made for a woman to ride, not a burly man like Randolph Mason.
“Perhaps you could talk to his father?” she
A knock at the door interrupted her musings. It was Miriam.
“Did you have a nice nap?” she asked as Faith opened the door.
“Yes, I did.” Faith looked in confusion at the back of Miriam’s head as she came into her room. Miriam never came to her room; no one did.
“Your father and I have some good news.” Miriam smiled, an expression that never quite reached her eyes. “The Masons are having a ball to celebrate Randolph’s return from Europe and we’ve been invited. Your father has even decided that you will have a new dress.”
“A new dress?” Faith couldn’t believe her ears. The only new dresses she’d had recently were ones she had made over from her mother’s wardrobe.
Miriam examined the towel that was hanging over the dressing screen. “Yes, a new dress. How did this get so wet?” She held the towel out with the question.
“I left the window open a bit and the rain came in. I cleaned it up with the towel.” Miriam gave Faith a piercing look and dropped the towel in the chair.
“Tomorrow morning we shall visit the dressmakers and see what we can find,” Miriam said and made her way back to the door. She paused and looked around the room as if seeing it for the first time. The bedspread was rumpled and the pillows flattened. The quilt was hanging off the end of the bed where Faith had dropped it in her celebration spin. “Clean up this mess,” Miriam ordered and left the room.
The following Sunday there was a slight dusting of snow on the ground. Ian rode by the carriage as Faith was getting in after church and tipped his hat. He had left a note under her pillow the previous Sunday that said he would meet her in the loft of the barn. That was easy enough; she had only to wait until her father and Miriam retired for their afternoon nap. Then she would pay a visit to the necessary. With luck, they wouldn’t notice when she didn’t come back right away.
She found Ian sitting on a bale, looking out a small window that had been left ajar. He seemed tired. There was no wide grin, just a slight smile as he held out his arms to her.
“What’s wrong?” she asked when she was safely in the circle of his arms.
“The young prince has returned,” he said into her hair.
“Randolph?”
“Yes, the royal Mason heir, returned from his education and his world tour. The man is a brute.”
“What happened?” Faith leaned back on her heels to better see his face. He rose from the bale and ran his hands through his hair.
“He came into the stables with his stud,” he began. “He doesn’t know a thing about horses; he’s brought this big black war horse from England, calls him Armageddon.” His movements became agitated. “He wants to use him for breeding with my mares—I mean his mares.” His face was anguished, and Faith’s heart hurt for him. She knew how much he loved his charges, how he nurtured them. “He decided to ride Katrina yesterday. I told him she was too young and he was too big for her, but he wouldn’t hear anything but he was going to ride her.” He scrubbed his hands through his hair again. “The man near ruined her wind, and she’s lame in the foreleg.” Ian dropped back down on the bale and put his head in his hands. Faith rose up and put her arms around him. He wrapped his arms around her waist and put his head to her breast. She sensed the anger and frustration coursing through him and felt it too. Katrina was the bay that she had ridden. The mare was long-legged and delicate, made for a woman to ride, not a burly man like Randolph Mason.
“Perhaps you could talk to his father?” she