Scattered Petals Read Online Free PDF Page A

had to know. Though Priscilla opened her mouth, no sounds emerged.
    “Who are you, and what are you doing here?” Clay turned to the Ranger, his stance as well as the tone of his voice making it clear that he blamed the man for Priscilla’s uncharacteristic silence. The Priscilla he’d known was rarely at a loss for words.
    “I’m Lawrence Wood, Texas Ranger. Three bandits attacked Miss Morton’s stagecoach about fifty miles east of San Antonio. There’s no easy way to say this. They killed her parents and . . .” He paused, apparently searching for the correct word. “They . . . er . . . hurt her.”
    Clay’s face paled; the dark-haired man clenched his fists. Sarah stepped forward and put her arm around Priscilla’s waist. Though she was four or five inches shorter than Priscilla, it felt as if Sarah were supporting her. “You poor dear. Come with me. I’ll have a nice hot bath drawn for you.”
    A hot bath. Brittle laughter spilled from Priscilla’s mouth. “That’s what Mama wanted, a hot bath. Now . . .”
    Sarah continued walking, propelling Priscilla toward the ranch house. Despite her decided limp, she kept a steady pace and somehow managed to support Priscilla. Sarah might appear delicate, but appearances were deceptive, for she was strong as well as beautiful. “That’s what every woman wants after a long journey,” Sarah said, her voice low and soothing. “The Ranger must have had you riding night and day to get here so quickly. I’m sure you’re exhausted.”
    As they entered the low adobe building, Sarah paused to let Priscilla’s eyes adjust to the relative darkness of what was obviously a kitchen. A range flanked by cupboards dominated one wall, while a second boasted a window and a deep sink. The third wall was bare, save for a door. It took a moment for Priscilla to notice the woman working at the table in the far corner. Short and stocky, she had hair and eyes so dark they were almost black. That and her black clothing made her blend into the background.
    “I was afraid to sleep,” Priscilla admitted to Sarah. The few times she’d dozed had been unpleasant. “When I do, the dreams come.” They were horrible, replaying all that had happened yesterday, filling her with a terror that was somehow worse than the reality had been. Each time she dreamt, foreboding heightened her fear, for she knew what would happen next. That was part of the reason she had not protested when the Ranger wanted to ride through the night. Being on horseback was so uncomfortable that it made it difficult to sleep.
    “I felt the same way after my parents died.” Sarah inclined her head toward the woman who continued to knead bread and made brief introductions, explaining that the other woman was Martina, the one indispensable member of the household. As Martina began to heat water for Priscilla’s bath, Sarah opened the door on the long wall, revealing a room equipped with a large bathtub, a padded bench, and hooks for clothing. “When we rebuilt the house after the fire, I told Clay that even though he and the ranch hands saw no problem in bathing on the porch, Thea and I needed a room inside. A bathroom was one of the few things I missed from our house in Philadelphia.”
    Priscilla nodded, remembering that, like her, Sarah had come to Texas from the East. The difference was, Sarah had planned to live here permanently as a mail-order bride, while Priscilla was only visiting.
    “Mama would have liked this,” she said, her voice choking at the thought of her mother. “It’s bigger than our bathroom at home.” Home. Tears welled in Priscilla’s eyes as she thought of the three-story red-brick building she had shared with her parents. What would it be like, living there alone? She wouldn’t think of that. Not today.
    “Thank you, Martina,” Sarah said as the woman handed her a pile of towels and a fresh bar of soap. When the woman returned to the kitchen, Sarah’s eyes registered a new concern.