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“You’re right; I shall go for her and bring her back here where she belongs!”
Chapter Seventeen
Melanie, who never cried, sobbed through the entire journey from Montana to Ohio. By the time the train docked in Columbus, her eyes were swollen and her throat ached. She badly longed for home, and she hoped with all of her heart that her parents were still at the ranch.
She dragged herself out of the carriage and went straight to the back car that housed the animals. After fetching midnight, she slung the small bag she had stuffed her clothes in. On her other hand, she carried the saddle which she had had with her in the carriage. She saddled him and mounted, taking the long stretch of road that would deposit her home.
There was no pleasure in returning home. Melanie felt like a failure. She knew she had a lot of thinking ahead of her. Marriage was now out of the cards for her. She never wanted to have feelings for a man as long as she lived. She had to figure out how to occupy herself, seeing as her parents had gotten rid of the ranch and had mapped out their own lives.
She urged Midnight to a gallop as the sun begun to disappear behind the clouds. She refused to think what her next course of action would be if her parents had left for their trip. She got off the main road and galloped down the driveway, pulling the reins harder until she rounded the bend where the house came into view.
Melanie could have wept at the lit up house. She brought Midnight to a halt, fell on his back and allowed the tears of relief to fall from her eyes. She stayed where she was until she had composed herself. Then she rounded the house, dismounted and entered the stables. The brushes hang from the wall, and she took one. After unsaddling Midnight, she brushed him down, taking her time with each stroke. Melanie was in no rush to explain everything to her parents.
When she was done brushing him, she carried hay to him and then filled his trough with water. By then, darkness had fallen and she slowly made her way to the house, her bag on her shoulder. She could hear their voices in the kitchen. Melanie stood outside the back door and inhaled deeply.
Then she knocked on the door.
“Who could it be at this time,” Melanie heard her mother ask.
The door opened and her father stood there gaping at her.
“Melanie?” he said. “Is that you?
“Did you say Melanie?” her mother said and edged her father from the doorway.
Her hand flew to her chest. “Melanie, what in God’s name are you doing here?”
Melanie smiled uncertainly.
“Let her enter first my dear,” her father said and Melanie entered into the warmth of the kitchen.
Her stomach growled at the delicious smells coming from a pot on the stove. Her mother moved to it and stirred its contents. Another surprise. In all the years she had lived at home, Melanie had never seen her mother cook.
“Come and join us my dear,” her father said. “Forget about the food.”
Her mother approached as though Melanie had a rifle.
“Alright Melanie, what is this about?” her father said gently.
Melanie licked her dry lips. “You did say that if I didn’t like it in Montana I should come back home.”
That was not what she had intended to say and she could see the shock on her father’s face.
“See Horace,” her mother exploded. “You spoil her. Did you give it a chance? No. The slightest discomfort and you come running home.”
“Be quiet!” her father bellowed.
Melanie was as taken aback. Her father rarely shouted.
“I know it’s more than that,” her father said and laid a rough hand on hers.
The tears came then and her father allowed her to cry.
“I’m sure whatever it is, it can be solved,” he soothed.
Melanie sat up and wiped off her tears. That would be the last time she would cry for Carter Taft. From that moment on, she was done with him.
“No father, it is done. I’m done with him and Montana,” she said.
