Head in the Clouds Read Online Free PDF Page A

challenge.”
    Maybe his daughter was a hellion who terrorized governesses with snakes and lizards in their beds. Well, Adelaide had been raised on a ranch, too. She’d pulled her own share of stunts on the ranch hands and the cook her father paid extra to tend his little girl.
    “I think I can handle a few pranks,” she stated with confidence.
    “It’s not pranks you have to worry about. It’s communication.”
    She waited for him to elaborate.
    “The child is barely five years of age and has yet to learn her letters.”
    “I don’t see how that will be a problem. I’ve taught numerous students—” She stopped when he started shaking his head.
    “Miss Proctor, the child is mute.”

Chapter 3
    M ENARD C OUNTY , T EXAS
    “A telegram has arrived, sir.”
    Gideon Westcott, youngest son of Baron Mansfield, formerly of Leicestershire, England, lifted the linen napkin from his lap and dabbed at his mouth before turning to address his butler.
    “Thank you, Chalmers.” He accepted the message from the servant’s white-gloved hand and dismissed him with a slight nod of his head.
    After spending the last two years learning the sheep business from the ground up, subsisting for weeks on end with only bleating ewes for conversation, beans and bacon for food, and gnarled mesquite branches for shelter, the strict English formality he’d been raised with seemed at odds with the man he’d become. However, his mother had insisted that he bring Chalmers and Mrs. Chalmers with him to set up house after his last visit home, and he knew better than to gainsay her. She maintained that since he was now to be a landowner backed by his father’s finances and not a mere herder, it was his duty as an Englishman to help civilize Texas. And, of course, nothing provided civilization more effectively than proper household staff.
    Gideon scanned the telegram from his man Bevin. He and the three women had disembarked the train at the terminus in Lampasas and were to have started their overland journey this morning. Taking into account the slower pace necessary for a wagon and genteel ladies, they should arrive sometime the day after tomorrow, barring any unexpected complications.
    They couldn’t arrive soon enough, as far as Gideon was concerned. The spring shearing had been postponed longer than wisdom dictated. This time last year, teamsters had already hauled the wool clip from the other ranchers in the area off to the warehouses in San Antonio. It had only been through the grace of God and his own nimble negotiation that the Mexican crew he’d hired this year for the shearing agreed to return to his ranch after completing their northern route.
    The late shipment would hurt his competitiveness in the market; however, he hoped the superior quality of his wool would add to the value. But even if he had to accept a low price, he did not regret his decision. Isabella needed someone whose sole responsibility was seeing to her care. During the shearing, he would be consumed with overseeing the crew’s progress from dawn till dark. And the rest of his staff would have increased responsibilities, as well. Bella would get lost in the shuffle. And that was unacceptable.
    Gideon bit back a sigh. All those months spent carefully outlining his business strategy and meticulously calculating risks like prairie fires, predators, disease, and anything else that could harm his flocks, he had failed to factor in personal issues. But then, how was he to anticipate becoming a parent overnight without benefit of the normally requisite wife?
    He pushed aside his unfinished dish of bread pudding and slid his gaze down the table to where Isabella sat, her sad, soulful eyes fixed on the telegram in his hand. It was hard to reconcile this silent, somber creature with the vibrant, carefree child he had first met aboard ship four months ago. Her radiance had died with her mother three hours before they reached American soil. Lady Petchey, frantic to protect her