A Headstrong Woman(58)

She stopped, inhaled deeply of the crisp morning air, and let it out in a slow ribbon that curled into the air and vanished. She loved this time of year when warm currents of air caressed the days making them pleasant and evening and morning belonged to the chilly grip of winter. Alexandria crossed the yard, let herself into the barn and carried a lantern to the hayloft where she knew she would find a new litter of kittens.

She gathered a soft, warm, furry body into her lap and started petting the kitten’s back. Its soft rhythmic purr filled the still morning air. Alexandria let her thoughts wander. What should she do about the missing cattle? What could she do? She had placed an ad in the paper for more help in hopes of tightening security but so far had not received a response. She couldn’t keep losing her herd a small handful at a time.

They had lost a total of seventy-five head of cattle. Not an overwhelming loss but still a disturbing one. She also realized that she had been depending on Jonathon too much. She needed to be more independent, more self-sufficient rather than turning to her foreman and friend. The truth was, she wasn’t certain how to do that, she needed his help and as hard as she tried being independent she couldn’t do it alone. But what if he decided to leave? He certainly had the right to. She would not only be in trouble with the ranch, she would miss him, she realized. Jonathon had become a good friend to her. If Jonathon decided to move on or marry, she had no choice but to wish him well and pray for his happiness; she could do no less for her friend.

She had no illusions, though; she knew if he moved on she would be lost on the ranch. She had the unsettling feeling that Jonathon stood between her and something more ominous than she had yet to experience.

Alexandria shivered and forced her thoughts elsewhere.

What would her family do for her birthday? She was still in mourning so any kind of formal gathering was out of the question. She knew she was to join them for a special meal and figured that would be all this year. Alexandria sighed; she was tired of pretending to mourn. She missed Elijah’s friendship but a friend was all she had lost.





Jonathon entered the barn and frowned. Why was there a lantern burning in the loft? No one had any reason to be up there this time of morning. He climbed the ladder and paused at the top to smile. Alexandria sat crossed legged in the hay, a kitten curled in her lap. Wisps of hair had escaped her braid and created a dark halo around her head. She looked for all the world like a little girl.

“What are you doing out here so early?” Jonathon asked.

Alexandria looked up at him and smiled. “Thinking. I had bad dreams and couldn’t sleep,” she answered as Jonathon sat down beside her.

“What about?”

“Different things. It’s been a while since I had some time to myself…”

“I can leave,” Jonathon was already starting to stand. Alexandria stopped him with her hand on his arm.

“Stay. My thoughts were getting me nowhere.”

“I love this time of year,” Jonathon commented as though just noticing that it was a beautiful morning. “Everything is slowly coming to life and mornings are crisp and new, kind of like early apples.”

Alexandria was smiling beside him. “You aren’t a poet are you, Jonathon?”

Jonathon laughed. “No, but I do enjoy poetry.”

“You like poetry?” her head tilted inquisitively.

“Very much. Longfellow is one of my favorites, but I think Shakespeare is definitely at the top.”

“Shakespeare?” Alexandria looked shocked.

“What?” Jonathon demanded.

Alexandria was still staring at him in amazement. “You know Shakespeare?”

“’To be or not to be, that is the question:

Whether it is nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune…’ yes I know Shakespeare, now quit staring at me like that.”

“Hamlet,” Alexandria smiled. “’Fie, Fie! Unknit that threatening, unkind brow,

And dart not scornful glances from those eyes

To wound thy Lord, thy king, thy Governor.

It blots the beauty as frosts do bite the meads,”

“Taming of the Shrew,” Jonathon cut her off.

“You do know Shakespeare.”

“Why is that so shocking?” Jonathon asked her; she shrugged. “Do you like his sonnets or just his plays?”

“I like his sonnets, but I’m not as familiar with them,” Alexandria admitted.