Page 4 of The Pursuit of Elena Bradford

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A rebel. If only she could rebel and as easily ignore her mother’s plan as she had her mother’s words just now. But she would have to be agreeable to the idea of marriage when her mother found a proper suitor for her in this miracle-working place, Graham Springs, reputed to heal whatever ailed a person. Perhaps even a spinster’s lack of a husband and a family’s lack of a fortune.

Even if Graham Springs was a place of miracles, she, Elena Bradford, with a lack of notable beauty or vivacious personality, was unlikely to be gifted with the miracle her mother hoped to find there. At least not a favorable miracle, such as meeting a man as handsome as the one walking beside her who might have the necessary pockets stuffed with more than cotton lint. And be attracted to her enough to propose. That would be a miracle.

She shook away the thought. A worry for another day. Now she could enjoy walking on this dusty road instead of being dashed about in the coach while fearing death, as they had been mere moments ago. The horses may have tired, as Mr. Harper had claimed, and tragedy been averted without this man by her side stopping them however he had accomplished that. Then again, the coach might have overturned or that cliff might have materialized in front of them. They might be lying beside the road in a heap just as their driver surely was.

Elena straightened her hat to shield her eyes from the sun and peered down the road. “I hope the man was not mortally injured by his fall.”

“Perhaps you should get back in the coach before we find him and let Taylor help if there’s need.”

“You mean in case his condition is not fit for tender eyes.” Elena looked over at him. “I promise not to faint. I leave such vapors to my mother.”

“And sister?”

“Ivy is very tenderhearted.”

“And lovely.”

“Yes. Yes, she is.”

“And very young.”

“Do you have sisters and brothers, Mr. Frazier?” Elena kept her eyes on the road.

“No.”

His answer was so abrupt—almost angry—that she stepped to the side, all at once very aware of the horses behind her. Walking with a man she had just met in front of a team of horses slowly pulling a stagecoach suddenly seemed too odd. Perhaps, as her mother would tell her, something a lady should not do. This man, this artist, probably thought the same and that she should have stayed in the coach.

“I think I see our trunk.” She hurried ahead to where it had landed after tumbling from the coach, glad to have a reason to move away from him.

Thanks to the strong belts her mother had insisted they clasp around it, the trunk had not spilled out their clothes. The party dresses that were to make her an attractive catch would be unharmed inside. She wasn’t as concerned about the finery as she was about the sketch pad and art supplies she had slipped under the dresses in the trunk. At this magical Springs Hotel they were going to, there would be gardens where Elena could attempt to capture beauty on paper. Every moment wouldn’t be taken up with dances and flirtation. Heaven only knew she would be better at sketching flowers and trees than charming the gentlemen.

At least she would still have the ball gowns to give her the illusion of beauty. Perhaps that would be enough to catch the notice of a man as desperate for a wife as her mother had determined Elena was for a husband. Of course, he also needed to have the required fortune.

She wasn’t going to think about that now. She would simply be glad their unmentionables weren’t strewn hither and thither across the road. Other parcels and valises were scattered about, and farther down the road, the coachman sat against a tree. When he saw them, he got to his feet and started toward them. Unsteady but without evident injury.

Elena perched on their trunk and left whatever happened next to Mr. Frazier. She studied the coach and the horses while the men talked. The way the horses’ heads drooped made Elena doubt they could run a step now. The other two men climbed down from the coach, and this time when Elena’s mother motioned impatiently at her, Elena stood and got back in the coach to squeeze in place as an obedient daughter.

She pulled up the curtain over the window opening to watch Mr. Harper gather up the valises. She could have helped with that. Mr. Taylor grumbled as he helped Mr. Frazier reload the trunks.

At last, the jehu climbed back onto the driver’s seat. Mr. Frazier climbed up beside him while the others got back inside the coach. At the way station, fresh horses were harnessed to the coach, and they went on toward Graham Springs. When Mr. Taylor chose to find another way to get to his destination, the remainder of their travel was without incident or complaint.

Mr. Harper appeared to sleep most of the ride while Ivy chattered about the sights they were passing. Mother looked as if one of her headaches was coming on as she gripped her valise. Elena held Mr. Frazier’s canvas and wished the packaging had been torn away when he fell on it so she could see the painting. But the ripped paper only exposed a few trees.

Mr. Frazier hadn’t climbed back inside the coach at the way station but instead stayed with the jehu. Perhaps to make sure he didn’t get dizzy and fall again. Now and then when they were on a smoother stretch of road, a few of their words would float down to her ears, but not enough to make sense of their conversation. She swayed from wishing she was riding on top of the stagecoach with the wind cooling her face to wishing the artist had climbed back into the stagecoach to talk about being the master of this painting.

Hours later, the stagecoach turned from the public road to go down a long lane between towering trees to Graham Springs. At the end of the driveway, a grand hotel stood four stories high with windows like dots along its walls. A chimney rose from each corner of the building.

Bedraggled and exhausted, they alighted from the coach as daylight ebbed. Mr. Harper politely wished them good day and headed toward the hotel. He moved up the steps to the entrance with no sign of eagerness to be there. Her mother leaned on Elena while their trunk was lifted down from the stagecoach. Ivy whirled first one way and then another, taking in everything.

In the soft late-afternoon light, couples strolled across the green lawns. Music wafted through the air. Elena glanced around and saw some men on a raised platform with instruments.

People sat in chairs along the veranda. The murmur of their voices sounded something like a creek sliding over rocks. A few men came to the porch railing for a better look at the stagecoach and those who alighted from it.

Elena ignored them as she gave her skirt a shake in a vain attempt to get rid of the road’s dust before she followed her mother and Ivy toward the entrance. She wasn’t about to start looking at every man she saw to wonder if he would be someone her mother would consider favorable.

The entrance door opened to let out a burst of more music and voices. Ivy grabbed Elena’s arm. “Isn’t this going to be the most wonderful adventure ever?” Her eyes sparkled in her glowing face.

“I think we’ve had enough adventure for one day,” Elena said.

“But I’ve been told they have a grand ball almost every night. Do you think we will have time to dress for that?” Ivy shoved a stray blonde curl behind her ear. “I can’t wait to wear one of the dresses Mother ordered from New Orleans. That’s all the fashion now, you know.”

Mr. Frazier stepped up behind them, carrying his canvas. “Of course, you must go to the dance, Miss Ivy. You will be the belle of the ball.” His gaze slid over to Elena. “As will you, Miss Bradford. Beautiful dance partners are much desired at a place like this.”

“Will you be there, Mr. Frazier?” Ivy looked ready to start dancing right there.

“That remains to be seen.” He hoisted the now-unwrapped canvas a little higher to look at it. The back was facing them. “According to how valuable this painting turns out to be.” A shadow of worry crossed his face.

“May we see it?” Elena asked.

“Only if you promise to flood it with praises. As a fellow artist, you must know how tender our feelings can be about our work.” With a somewhat tentative look on his face he turned the canvas toward them.

Elena knew at once that it was a scene much like the one they had seen moments ago, except instead of daylight ebbing as it was now, the hotel, the trees, and the people on the walkways were bathed in sunlight. The stretched tear in the middle from Mr. Frazier’s fall didn’t take from the peace of the scene.

“How lovely.” Ivy sounded breathless.

“Thank you.” Mr. Frazier smiled at Ivy before he turned his gaze back to Elena. “But what of you, the artist in the family?”

“When one looks at it, you are so certain the people in the picture are having such a wonderful time that you want to be in the scene yourself. It gives one a feeling of joy in the moment.” Elena lifted her gaze from the picture to Mr. Frazier’s face. “Is one of the people you?”

He shook his head. “No. I’m one, like you, on the outside looking in.”

Elena frowned a little. “Why do you say that?”

“About you?” He didn’t wait for her to respond. “Does it make you uncomfortable?”

“Uncomfortable?” Elena met his intense look. For a moment, they seemed to be the only two in this room full of people as the bustling noise around them faded. “I can’t imagine what you mean.”

“That I do not believe, my lady. You do imagine. Many things. All artists do.” A smile came into his eyes then.

“I fear I am not the artist you are, sir. As my mother said, I merely dabble in paints.” She didn’t know why she said that. The words stabbed her even though she had uttered them herself. Was she afraid to admit to this man, to anyone, how the desire to draw burned inside her and how much she feared losing that?

He reached to touch her hand. “There are times I feel the same. Only a dabbler, but then another sun rises and another scene beckons me. Keep looking for that next sunrise, Elena.”

The use of her given name shocked her. And then Ivy was shaking her arm, saying her name as well.

“Elena, Mother wants us to go with her.”

The noise of the hotel rushed back, with people moving past them as if they were rocks in a river. Elena pulled her gaze away from him to look at Ivy and then at her mother motioning to them from across the room.

“Go on and see what she wants. I’ll be along in a minute.”

Ivy moved off without argument. Elena should have followed her. Nothing was holding her there with Mr. Frazier. Nothing but the way he was looking at her, as if she wasn’t as plain as she’d always thought.

She was still searching for the proper words of parting when the stream of noise died away again. Not because of Mr. Frazier looking at her with that hint of a smile she wasn’t sure whether she found charming or irritating. Instead, a man’s voice boomed out to draw the attention of everyone within hearing range.

“Andrew! Come, let me look at you. Your grandfather sent word that I should expect you today.”

The man speaking had white hair and a long white beard. Something about his bearing gave him a presence that made it plain he was in charge. He came across the lobby, straight toward Mr. Harper as if he’d been waiting for him for days.

Mr. Frazier turned from Elena to watch. “Looks as if our Mr. Harper has found a proper welcome. And from the man who rules this place. Had I known Harper was so well known here, I would have tried harder to find a way to earn his favor.”

“You did stop the runaway horses, Mr. Frazier.”

“Oh, please call me Kirby. After the day we’ve had, I think we can skip past the formalities and be friends,” Mr. Frazier said.

“I don’t think Mother would approve of that.”

“Your mother is on the other side of the room.”

“Yes, and frowning my way already. But as to earning your fellow coach passengers’ favor, due to your daring, the stagecoach didn’t overturn and we didn’t run off that cliff.”

“The supposed cliff that wasn’t in our path after all,” he said. “Since no pesky cliffs materialized, our Mr. Harper was probably right in saying the horses would tire and stop running without any heroics.”

“What heroics did you do, other than daring to climb out of the stagecoach up onto the roof to reach the horses?”

“A true hero never has to boast about his own deeds.” He shook his head and looked down at his canvas. “I will need to brag on my art to convince the man there to let me spend the summer here as an artist for hire.” He raised his head to stare at the man still talking with Mr. Harper.

“Who is he?” Elena asked.

“Dr. Christopher Columbus Graham, the owner and operator of this place. Have you not heard of him?”

“Should I have?”

“Not necessarily, but I wouldn’t be surprised if you had. He’s a man of many talents and much experience.”

“An artist?”

“If so, I’ve never heard it said, but that too wouldn’t surprise me. He’s a doctor. An author. A soldier who has marched into war. A man reputed to be acquainted with every person worth knowing since the 1700s. A champion sharpshooter who shows off his skills here with his rifle club. And of course, he champions his spring water as a cure for almost anything.”

“I see.” Elena studied the man talking animatedly with Mr. Harper.

“Even poverty.” Mr. Frazier murmured those last words as if he’d almost forgotten she was there.

Her gaze flew back to Mr. Frazier, but he showed no sign that he had guessed about her family’s need. Elena’s mother must not be the only one looking for monetary miracles in this place. If only Elena could find her miracle with a sketch pad and paints as he must hope to do.