Set in c.1870 in Fair Play, Texas
A young man falls for a spinster, ten years his senior, whom he had admired for years. Will she be able to get past the age difference?
[Copyright: 2012]
September 16, 2014: Epublished on Amazon
An excerpt from Chapter 1:
Fair
Play, Texas, May 1872
Now was the time. Today was the day.
Jeremy Farnsworth took a deep breath.
He liked the freshness of early morning air. The ground was still damp, moisture
left over from yesterday. He could feel it though, that today would be another
hot one, hotter than hot. Yep, it would be a scorcher. Typical Texas weather,
unpredictable––you never knew what the weather might be till it happened. It
had rained hard yesterday with warm breezes and lightning. That left the
humidity high enough to make him feel sticky, but not so high it took his
breath away, not yet anyway.
His azure eyes scanned the trees. He
found the treed prairies of the Piney Woods region refreshing; the trees made
the prairie not seem so flat. There were no signs of smoke; the lightning had
not set the forest afire. He was always glad when there were no fires
threatening wildlife and homestead ranches. Every day the trees renewed his
love of nature.
He rode on into town. Town. He disliked
town, mostly. Not the buildings cluttering up the beautiful prairie that God
had created nearly as much as the mean-spirited people who walked it. Not everybody
was friendly and fair as the town's name implied, the reason the name had been
earned and given. Things change. He preferred open land and solitude. Up ahead,
one who was different from the rest, Diana Carter, came out of the
boardinghouse where she resided and sat on the bench along its front. A smile
pulled his mouth at the sight of her. This would be easier than he'd thought.
He rode up to the front of the
boardinghouse. "G'mornin', Miss Diana. Do y'all mind if I sit a spell?"
She nodded consent. "Good morning,
Jeremy."
He dismounted, tied his mount to the
hitch, and let Alamo drink from the trough. He took off his Stetson, the best
of cowboy hats, looked at it and then slapped it against his thigh, the easiest
way to remove the dust and bits of foliage, while recalling how he went on over
nigh onto Dallas to buy it from Mr. Stetson himself at his hatter shop in
Garland just year before last. He then ran his fingers through his hair to
loosen his light blond locks. Diana looked at his hair as though she'd never
seen it before, like she liked it. He playfully frowned and asked, "Somethin'
wrong with m'hair?"
She shook her head. "Your hair is
catching the sun real nice like." Her eyes shifted to his horse. She hadn't
been this close to the stallion before.
Jeremy was gazing at her bright eyes, green
as spring grass. He noticed her looking his Quarter Horse over. "Wanna say
howdy t' him? His name is Alamo."
"Your horse?"
He nodded.
"Yes." She stood and swept
her hands over her skirt, and then stepped down off the boardwalk into the
street beside his tall stallion. "He is a fine looking steed. He has
spirit. Is he new?" She stroked the horse's chestnut brown nose, twiddled
her fingers in his black mane, and spoke sweetly to him. The charger responded
by calmly nuzzling her shoulder.
"Nah. I raised him from a colt,
breakin' him in slowly t' be a good all-'round mount. He's decided t' be my
buddy, so I brung him t' town today as a treat. The one I usually ride is his
pa. Y'all like horses, do ya? Sorry he got y'all wet."
"It will dry in no time in this
heat. Yes, I more than just like horses. I like horses better than people,
well, most people, that is."
"Same here."
Diana went back to the bench and sat
where she had been before. Then she scooted closer to the far end to make extra
room and replied, "It is good to see you, Jeremy. Have a seat. How have you
been?
"Can't complain."
"You never do," she stated
matter-of-factly.
"Y'all look lovely this mornin', Miss
Diana. A special day?"
"Lovely?" She looked down to her
hands, "Thank you. Nobody's ever told me that before." She looked melancholy.
"And no, this day is just like every other." She sighed as she
thought, 'Destined to be lonely.'
He wondered about that. Nobody? Ever? Lovely, an' more! She's
beautiful an' don't even know it.
"People've thought it, though. I
guarantee it," he told her with a cheerful, friendly smile.
"I doubt that. But you have always
been kind."
"Kind?" He cocked his head,
looking perplexed.
Softly smiling, she explained, "I
was thinking of that day, about ten years back, when we had a church picnic by
the pond at Wells Park. Remember? You were about ten or eleven, I think. I was
still fairly new to town so had tried to look my very best, you know, hoping
some fella of marrying age would notice me. Instead, that Smithers boy chose me
as a target and tossed a mud-ball at me. It splattered all over my skirt. I was
right stunned and trying hard not to cry when you called my name out and
started splashing me. You drenched the front of my skirt, but only my skirt, and you did not stop till all the mud was gone."
"I meant well."
She smiled at him. Quite distracted by
it, he hoped she hadn't seen him gazing at her smile, her enticing lips. She
quickly looked away. A muscle by her mouth twitched, almost imperceptibly. Had
she noticed? Of course she had, she's one who keeps eye contact, and he'd
broken it when tempted by those kissable lips of hers.
"I knew you did." She
continued, "I was so shocked by it all, that I just stood there, a
spectacle. Everybody was so quiet at first. Some older boys started heckling
me, so I decided it was best to laugh it off – thinking maybe if I laughed
first there would be no jokes made about it."
"It su'prised 'em fer sure"
Jeremy told her. "Then it dawned on me that others might join in splashin'
ya an' git y'all wet clean through, top t' bottom, so I stopped real deliberate
like. I was right glad that y'all started laughin'. I was afraid ya'd be mad at
me."
"Mad at you? Oh, for getting me wet? No. I wanted to thank you with a big
hug. The water was better than the mud, you see. It dried quickly in the heat,
remember?"
"I knowed that even then. Jimmy
threw th' mud cuz he liked y'all. Did y'all see his face when he seen what a
mess he'd made?"
"No, I was looking down at my
muddy dress."
"Too bad y'all didn't. He was right
sorry. Thought he was gonna cry. Thought y'all would, too. So I tried t' git
rid o' that mud b'fore too many people seen it."
"I do not think anybody else saw
the mud. Nobody ever mentioned it. It all happened too fast, I think. Thanks for
that."
He smiled and nodded acknowledgement of
her thanks. "I never saw y'all wear that dress again. Was it ruint?"
"No, just a bad memory. You
noticed what I wore?"
"Yep, I was sweet on y'all." To
himself he added, 'Still am.'
"Me? I was, am, what, about ten years older than you?"
"Yep. I seen y'all as th' perfect gal.
I watched ya all th' time."
"The perfect old maid," she
stated sourly.
Jeremy chuckled. What could he say to
make her feel better? He tried by saying, "Maiden, yep. But old? Nope."
"I am beyond hope of marrying now.
Tis a fact."
"Nah. Y'all git perdier ev'ry year,
Miss Diana. Y'all can't hide that. An' yer th' nicest person in town. Nobody
here's good enough fer y'all."
She laughed, "Too bad you are not older,
Jeremy. Bye, now." Diana rose and went back into the boardinghouse.
"Yep. Too bad," he spoke aloud,
to himself.
She may have left Jeremy on the bench
outside, but he was still in her thoughts. He
has grown into a right fine young man, and much taller than most fellas around
here. He has a sweetness about him, and, mercy, he's downright handsome with
that whitish hair and blue eyes. That dimple when he smiles makes my knees
weak. And those muscles of his are so powerful looking, even through that nice
shirt of his. She sighed. She blushed at the thought of having been so
aware of his muscles. She had to admit to herself that she had admired his
masculine physique approaching her, all the while trying to hide her gaze. He
was a right good looking man now, so tall and lean, but looked solid and
strong, a mighty fine looking man. A young man with a sinfully tempting mouth.
Oh, why couldn't she have a man like
him of her very own? Sweet. Smart. Thoughtful. Handsome. Dependable. Hard working
when helping out folks in town. That was Jeremy Farnsworth. The perfect man.
What would he be now, twenty or twenty-one? Nope, the wrong age to her thirty.
It could never be. He was not only younger, but nine or ten years younger.
Maybe even eleven years. She would soon turn thirty-one.
