Scattered Petals Read Online Free PDF

“I didn’t see any extra saddlebags, so I imagine the Ranger forgot to bring your clothes.”
    At the time, Priscilla hadn’t cared, remembering how the men had rifled through the luggage. The thought of donning anything the bandits had touched was abhorrent, but what she had on was even worse. This was what she’d been wearing when . . . Priscilla looked at her travel- and grass-stained skirts and frowned. “I’m afraid this is all I have. We left everything with the stagecoach. The Ranger warned me it would probably be stolen before he could get back there.”
    Sarah gave her a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry. We’ll find something.” When Martina returned to dump the first kettle of hot water into the tub, Sarah turned to her. “When you’re done with this, would you ask Zach to ride to the Lazy B? There’s a trunk of Mary’s clothes in the attic. They’ll be a little long for Priscilla, but they’ll fit better than mine. Tell Zach to bring the whole trunk.”
    Zeke was here? Priscilla gasped as the memories rushed back, stronger and more painful than ever. Sarah and Clay knew Zeke?
    “It’s only until we can have some new clothing made. No one will mind if you wear Mary’s in the meantime, least of all her. When she and her son left Ladreville a few months ago, they didn’t take much with them, and I doubt they’ll be back.”
    Priscilla grabbed the edge of the tub to keep from collapsing. Sarah obviously misunderstood the reason for her alarm. “Zeke?” She managed to squeak the word.
    “Zach.” Sarah corrected her. “Zach Webster. He’s the dark-haired man you saw outside. Zach is our foreman and Clay’s closest friend.”
    Priscilla took a breath, trying to calm her nerves. The stranger was not the same man. She’d already told herself that Zeke Dunkler was dead. Now she reminded herself that Zach Webster would not hurt her. Still, the similarity in appearance and name was troubling.
    When Martina emptied the last pot and billows of steam rose from the tub, Priscilla tried to unbutton her dress, but her fingers seemed incapable of following her brain’s commands. “I’m not normally like this.” She frowned at her fumbling fingers.
    “I can’t imagine how you feel after all that happened to you.” Like Priscilla, Sarah seemed unwilling to pronounce the ugly word. Sarah took a step closer and deftly unfastened Priscilla’s bodice. “But I do know nothing is the same when your parents die. I walked around in a haze for days afterwards.” Sarah turned her attention to Priscilla’s skirt and soon had it pooling on the floor. “If I hadn’t had Thea to worry about, I might have done that for months.”
    As the last of the petticoats joined her skirt, Priscilla removed her chemise and let Sarah help her into the tub. Though she must have seen them, Sarah made no comment on the bruises Zeke had inflicted.
    “Tell me about Thea,” Priscilla suggested as she sank into the warm water. It felt good, so very good, to know that every inch of her would be clean. Maybe if she washed away the last traces of the bandit, the memories would disappear along with the dirt.
    Sarah began soaping a cloth. “Where do I start? You already know Thea’s my little sister, or—as my parents used to call her—their big surprise. Of course, I can’t call her ‘little’ in her hearing. She’s almost three, and she never fails to tell me that that makes her a big girl.” Furrows appeared between Sarah’s brown eyes. “She was so young when our parents died that sometimes she forgets that I’m her sister, not her mother. As for Clay—she’s always called him ‘Papa Clay.’ The poor man!” Sarah’s frown deepened. “Listen to me, babbling about things that mean nothing to you. I’m sorry.”
    Priscilla shook her head. “I don’t mind.” Sarah’s babbling, as she called it, was soothing, as were her ministrations. Though it had been years since anyone had soaped her arms, Priscilla did