Page 18 of The Enchanted Land

Seth told his mother, “Cynthia’s gone. She saw what she came to see, and then she left.”

Nora was beaming. She had known that nature would take its course.

Morgan, embarrassed at being found in Seth’s arms, brought an elbow sharply into his stomach. He didn’t flinch. She turned and glared at him, whispering through clenched teeth, “Let me go.”

Seth chuckled and, relenting, released her.

“Dinner will be in an hour. Maybe you two would like to rest before dinner?”

Seth immediately grabbed Morgan’s hand and led her across the room. “That’s a good idea, Mother.” He led her quickly up the stairs to their room. “Now, let’s start where we left off.” He turned to her, but she moved from him.

“No, Seth, I was angry before.” Her voice was pleading. “I want to be friends—no more.”

Seth smiled. “All right. I have a long time. I’ll wait. Why don’t you rest? Bessie could bring you a bath.”

“I’d love that.” As Seth turned to leave, Morgan said quietly, “Thank you for understanding, Seth.”

Morgan sat in the hot water for a long time. She tried not to think about the day, the long ride with Seth, how she had felt when Cynthia kissed him. Everything was moving too quickly! She lay back in the tub and thought about Trahern House.

Life had been so simple, so quiet and gentle there. She had always done exactly as she pleased. Her days had been filled with riding, cooking, embroidery, and caring for her flowers. She had been very happy. There had been so few people in her life then. She had been left in peace.

She thought about Seth’s family. Nora was so kind, and always close to laughter. William was always easy to be with. And the sisters—it was funny how a person always thought of them together. They, too, were always smiling. Everyone seemed to enjoy life so much. Morgan slid deeper into the tub, thinking that if she ever did leave Trahern House, the Colter family would be pleasant to live with. But, of course, she never would leave Trahern House. What had made her think such a thing?

She was just finishing dressing when Seth came to the room to change for dinner. He nodded toward the tub, still full of water. “I should have come up earlier.”

Morgan smiled at him as she adjusted the tight knot of hair on her neck. Seth strode towards her, touched the knot, and said, “I like it better the other way. But at least this way you’re no temptation.”

Morgan swung around to meet his eyes, “Good! Now maybe you’ll not embarrass me in front of your family.”

After dinner, Seth disappeared to the library, and the rest of the family retired to the large drawing room. William read, smoking a large cigar. The three sisters asked Morgan if she’d like to help embroider Austine’s linens for her trousseau.

“Eleanor’s wedding dress is a light blue silk and Austine’s is a pink satin,” Jennifer chattered. “They are going to be married together, this summer. I wish you could stay for the wedding.”

“That would be nice, Morgan. You could be our matron of honor. It would be wonderful if you would stay. Do you think you could?” Austine looked at Morgan expectantly, but Morgan sat quietly, unresponding, absorbed in her stitching.

“Morgan.” Nora’s voice was clear in the silence.

Morgan immediately looked up and realized what had happened. “I’m sorry, I guess I was thinking of something else.”

Nora turned to her husband. “William, do you know where Seth went?”

“He’s in the library, reading those old journals of his.” Then, as if taking the hint from his wife, he said, “Why don’t you go join him, daughter? I’m sure he’d like to show them to you. When he was a little boy, he used to read those by the hour. And he’d read them to anyone who’d listen, too.”

“I promised Austine and Eleanor I’d help with the linens.”

“Don’t be silly, Morgan. This is your honeymoon. Go spend the evening with your husband.” Nora’s eyes were dancing. She knew that Morgan could hardly say no to her suggestion.

“If I had just been married, I’d spend every minute with my husband.” Jennifer was always the romantic.

Morgan left the room, went down the hall, and quietly opened the door of the library. Seth was sitting in a large leather chair behind a massive, carved walnut desk. He was smoking a large cigar and seemed totally engrossed in an enormous book. Thinking he hadn’t heard her come in, she moved noiselessly to his side. His voice startled her.

“Look at this.” He pointed to a yellowed page with angular, faded handwriting.

We have waited eight days for the flood waters to recede. The sun is merciless. There are no trees for shade. Ahead of us lies nothing but flat grassland. There is much tension among us because of the Indians we have seen.

“Who wrote it?”

“I don’t know. When I was very young, my grandfather bought it from a Frenchman he met in Louisville. This is only the center section of the journal. As far as I can guess, and I’ve read it several times, this was one of the earliest American parties to try to make it to Santa Fe.”

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