Driscoll's Daughter Read online

  DRISCOLL'S

  DAUGHTER

  by Paula Freda

  Driscoll's Daughter

  (a sequel to Driscoll's Lady)

  Novella by Paula Freda

  Copyright 2013 by Dorothy Paula Freda

  (Pseudonym - Paula Freda)

  Smashwords Edition

  Cover Insert Photo - Licensed by Paula Freda from iStockphoto.com

  Image of our Lady of the Rockies

  Wikipedia.com - Flickr.com - (ArtBrom)

  Creative Commons - Attribution-ShareAlike 2.0 Generic (CC BY-SA 2.0)

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof. This is a work of fiction; names, characters, places and incidents are a product of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

  Dedication

  With thanks to my Dear Lord Jesus and his Blessed Mother Mary whose strength, guidance, and her Holy Rosary, are my anchor in this troubled world, I dedicate this book to my husband, Domenick, whose love, patience and kindness over the past 42 years have kept my dreams and view of the romantic alive and vibrant.

  Paula Freda

  CHAPTER ONE

  He loves me, He loves not,

  Tread gently my soul

  Beyond the next corner

  Love's sweet splendor awaits you.

  Exasperated, Seth picked up the gilt-framed photo displayed on the fireplace mantle, of his daughter at age six.

  "Everyone ignores me!" Lexie's usual lament in the most miserable six-year-old voice she could muster, when she couldn't get her way. "You never listen, you just ignore me," she'd wail, eyes the color of light blue crystal filling with tears, and the promise of full lips pouting.

  "That's cause you always have see-through excuses for not listening to me or your mother," Seth would tell her, his normal gravelly voice sounding gruffer than he meant it to. Near to impossible to reprimand his daughter when she looked at him with that pout or those eyes. Lexie inherited her mother's eyes, not to mention her stubbornness and her determination. Eighteen years later, at age twenty-four, Lexie was smarter, more sensible, but as stubborn and determined as her mother when he first met her. Not that Leatrice became docile or easily compliant, but she still loved him, an unreasonable daughter and two rambunctious sons later. The silver strands weaving through her chestnut hair only added to her matte, refined beauty. The ranch workers still referred to her as Driscoll's Lady.

  On Lexie's sixth birthday, when she ran out of the main house in a huff, hands on hips, and face scrunched with tears running down her cheeks, red with fury, screaming, "I won't, I won't go to school!" the ranch hands good-naturedly nicknamed her, Driscoll's Daughter. Of course, Leatrice recognized herself at that age. She quickly interposed herself between father and daughter. "It's okay, Seth, calm down. I know how to handle this." And she did. Taking Lexie into the country, and reasoning and explaining that the only way she would be free to be her own self, was if she received a good education, learned self-restraint, and created a good life for herself.

  Somehow, mother got through to her daughter, and the next morning, having already missed kindergarten, Lexie began first grade.

  But now a far more serious problem than starting first grade loomed over his daughter, and he doubted that even Leatrice's reasoning powers could get through to her, this time.

  He sensed Leatrice enter the family room of their spacious ranch on the Triple R. He always sensed when she came into a room. She had that sort of presence.

  Shortly after Lexie's birth, he caved in to Leatrice's request that they tear down the old main house with its antiquated plumbing and fixtures, and build an up-to-date — for that time — elegant ranch house. There was very little Seth wouldn't do for Leatrice once he'd consigned his heart fully into her keeping. And he didn't mind, because he seriously doubted that any other woman could love him the way she did, heart, body and soul. So he gave her free rein. Leatrice, wealthy, and heir to an affluent and distinguished family from the Catskills in New York, created a home he could not help but like, gracious and elegant, but not ostentatious. Nothing at all like the luxurious Bar LB cattle ranch she mortgaged to him. She pleaded with him to let her gift it to him, but on his insistence, finally agreed to sell it to him. She understood — a matter of a man's pride. And after what she went through to prove herself to him the year before their marriage, his pride and beliefs about spoiled rich Eastern women didn't stand a chance fighting his own attraction and desire for Leatrice.

  He'd never regretted marrying her. There was a saying on his ranch that only one man had the strength to withstand the rock hardness, the authoritative and indomitable pull of her eyes, the color of crystal under a clear morning sky — eyes that would fell a lesser man than Seth, the man in front of whom she'd lower that gaze humbly with love, though it rarely came to that. Over the years, their love grew, and their hearts melded as one. Linda, a country girl he'd once considered marrying, swore they would never last, until she found her own true love and realized that Seth would never be the man for her. A few months ago, he celebrated his twenty-fifth anniversary married to the woman he loved more than life itself. He always hoped the same for their daughter and their sons. But if Lexie exemplified the future, it looked to be trouble in heaven for the next twenty-five years.

  Seth shook his head as he replaced the photo back on the fireplace mantle.

  Leatrice approached him. "What's wrong, dearest? You're worried about her, aren't you?" she asked.

  Her voice had softened somewhat with the years, but it was still beautiful to him. It brought to mind gold coins landing gently on a mirrored surface. Seth turned and closed the space between them. Without thinking, and out of habit, he closed his arms about her. Leatrice nestled her head against his chest. Seth rested his chin on the chestnut brown and silver strands. "Lee, sweetheart, I'm at wit's ends with Lexie. Bad enough she moved to New York after college. What's she thinking agreeing to move in with that lawyer friend. Didn't we bring her up better than that? He won't even meet us. A lame excuse, he can't leave his clients. Think it's her doesn't want us to meet him. What's she afraid of?"

  "That you'll hate him," Leatrice whispered against his chest.

  The plaid shirt, black and red, wasn't enough to keep the heat of her breath from warming the flesh beneath and fueling anew his desire for her that had never left him. He gently let go and took a step back. "Well, I already dislike him."

  "He did propose to her," Leatrice said.

  "And she said No," he replied curtly.

  "Now dearest, she explained in her letter to us that it wasn't quite a No..."

  "No is No," he said. Seth's voice by nature slightly gravelly, made him sound as though he were growling.

  Leatrice couldn't stop the chuckle, but she sobered immediately when Seth declared, "He may not have the time to come here, but there's nothing stopping me from going there."

  Leatrice pursed her lips. Seth knew that look. He wasn't going anywhere. Not that she could stop him physically. Both of them ate sensibly and for the most part had kept their figures, but he remained stronger than her. Yet Leatrice had a way with him. "So what do you suggest?" he asked.

  "Let me go to New York," she said. "I'm familiar with the lingo and territory," she added, tongue in cheek. "Please, Seth. You know she's always opened up more to me." And before he could protest, she added, "Besides, Cal needs you here. Tom is holding his own, teaching at Montana Tech, but Cal is still new as foreman of the Triple R. You and I are busy with the Bar LB, and Tanner is gone, now that he and Linda have bought their own horse ranch. You can't expect him to come here to coach Calvin in your place. I'm the only expendable one at present."

  "
Expendable to whom?" Seth asked. She has me, as usual. "You know it takes the two of us to run both ranches." He didn't mention the other reason he wasn't happy with her going — the part where he'd be sleeping alone without her beside him. "All right, you go. But I warn you, if you can't talk any sense into her within the week, I'm coming up, Ranch or no Ranch!"

  Leatrice didn't retort. She knew that stance. He meant business. She would have to figure out something to stop her daughter from possibly making a huge mistake, and hurting herself, along with her parents.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Lexie Driscoll woke to a beautiful November morning. The temperatures out east in Suffolk County near the edge of Long Island were normally degrees colder, but here in western Nassau, close to Queens and Manhattan where she presently lived, they were warmer. For the past two years, she had occupied the apartment on the upper floor of a home converted to a two-family dwelling. And despite the feeling she was finally free and completely on her own, the longing for the peace and quiet calm of her place of birth, Montana, with its wide, spacious meadows and snow-capped mountains, the part of the country that filled her dreams, where she had been happiest and most loved, refused to vanish. Outside her bedroom window, trucks roared and cars honked as they drove back and forth on the two-way lane that bordered the front lawn and sidewalk. Perhaps if she had been born and reared in the City, the noise would not bother her. Or at least if she had found an apartment on one of the narrower, quieter streets, with less traffic and less fumes. But rentals on the Island were expensive. And since she refused handouts from her parents, not wanting to feel beholden to them and guilted into following their advice, this apartment was all she could afford. The cape cod was old but well kept, sold by an old couple to a young couple with a small child and a set of twins on the way.

  Directly below her, on the first floor, the child cried, and the shuffling noise of slippered footsteps quickly traversing the wood floors to meet her needs, wove upward to Lexie's room. There would be no more sleeping this morning.

  Lexie reflected, her mother, Leatrice, too, had found it hard adapting to new surroundings and lifestyle. She hailed from the Catskills, upstate New York, from good-natured, wealthy parents. Lexie's father, Seth, was a true Montanan, a handsome man, tall, well built. Not a wealthy man, but hardworking, set in his ways, but with a soft core. The owner of the Triple R, with an excellent reputation as a breeder of the finest pure breed quarter horses that cattle ranchers who could not afford to raise their own remudas for rounding up cattle, or simply horsemen in need of sturdy steeds, bought at top dollar and praised highly.

  Her father and mother, had started out as an unlikely pair. Binny, her father's old ranch hand, first told her their love story. It had left her amazed and in awe of her mother's strength of character. But Leatrice had warned her daughter the only reason her unorthodox efforts worked with Seth, was that he already loved her. "I only accomplished a change of attitude. Enough to enable your father to give his love for me free rein to requite my feelings for him."

  Lexie recalled how her mother chuckled at the memory. She asked, "Mommy, why are you laughing?"

  Binny interjected, "Well, it darned was funny, sometimes — like the time with the milk separator. The old kitchen could have stood a whitewash, except for the curdles."

  Leatrice laughed outright. "Oh, Binny, don't remind me." She tapped Lexie's small nose. "I didn't know much about ranch life."

  "Daddy taught you a lot; he always says that."

  Leatrice smiled, and admiration shown in her sky-blue eyes. "Yes he did, sweetheart. And we went through some harsh times."

  Binny gave a fierce nod. "And you oughta know, your mom saved your dad's life."

  "How, when?" Lexie asked, wide-eyed.

  Leatrice told her eventually, but at that moment, Seth called to Lexie from outside that it was late and if she didn't leave right that second, even with the new pickup, he'd never get her to the school's bus stop on time.

  As the years passed and she heard more of their love story, and saw more and more the fierce love her mom and dad shared, she made up her mind to give her love only to a man who could inspire her to do as much as her mom had done to capture her dad's heart.

  Her childhood friend, Chris, a couple of years older, never fit that blueprint. From the day he met her at the annual summer barbecue given to thank the ranch hands and their families for all their hard work during the year, Chris followed her about like a puppy dog. She was three, he was five. Lexie took after her mom and dad. Tall for her age, the difference two years make in the growth of a small child was not as apparent until you exchanged conversation with her, though she was smart as a whip.

  Chris, slower, a late bloomer, repeated a school year, and the fact that his birthday fell in the winter, caused both Lexie and him to end up in the same classes during the whole of grammar and high school.

  Chris' affection for Lexie never altered. It intensified with each passing year — as if he was born to love her — until one moonlit evening, as they strolled along a path cloaked in Engelmann spruce, he knelt down on one knee before her and proposed. At eighteen, the glamour of the proposal, romance in the air, the enchantment of a handsome young man kneeling, offering her the key to his heart and his life, the habitual comfort and safety she felt in his company, proved too much for her to resist. She accepted, stars in her eyes, sure of her feelings. He'd always been there for her. Always at her beck and call, ready to bend over backwards for her. She led, he followed.

  Lexie was born to lead. As much as her mom and dad were proud of her high IQ and her always wanting to be the best, she often overheard them speaking softly that they feared she might one day have to face and deal with the knowledge there were smarter and better, more qualified individuals quite capable of leading; quite adamant that she be the follower. She would have to learn someday that there is a middle point — a time to lead, and when to follow.

  When she accepted Chris' proposal, she felt no doubt. At her father's insistence, they agreed to wait, at least until Lexie had finished college, especially if she planned to help Chris with his dream of one day owning a horse ranch of his own. Chris had opted for a trade and agricultural school, learning how to farm and breed horses. Perhaps if they'd attended the same college, she might be Chris' wife today, but the distance and the separations, and the new world that Lexie found herself in, constituted too much of a distraction. Handsomer and smarter young men wanted to date her, despite the engagement ring she wore. After a while she grew tired of needing to flash the ring in their faces, not to mention she wanted to date them. Her world now included a much vaster realm than the two ranches and small schools in which she grew up.

  On the evening of her graduation, with her parents and Chris present, she broke off her engagement and broke his heart along with it.

  CHAPTER THREE

  The crying baby below her bedroom quieted. Outside on the street, a car honked. A neighbor's dog barked in reply, and Lexie realized that if she didn't get up this second, she'd be late for work.

  An hour later, notwithstanding her leaving on time, the Long Island Railroad did not follow her wishes to be on the elevated station waiting for her. By the time she arrived at Penn Station, she was already twenty minutes late — again. Lucky that she'd caught Jim's eye. Jim, the offspring of the eldest senior partner, Harold Nelson, had joined the firm twelve months ago. He made sure she kept her clerical job. Though overqualified because of her education, she accepted the position when she arrived in New York City, because of the time's low economy and unemployment rate. She refused handouts from her parents, and dug into her meager savings — she was a spender, rather than a saver — only enough to find an apartment. Her standard of living on the ranch made her turn up her nose to tall apartment buildings. Suburban living on the Island fit closer to her standards.

  Dating Jim was fun. A good man, not a womanizer, or just out for a few thrills, he appeared sincerely smitten with her. But what was there
for him not to like — beautiful and statuesque as her mom, and as smart. Jim, 6' 2", tall enough for her to lean her head on his shoulder, proposed to her. She was tempted to accept, but something held her back. At the same time, not wanting to lose him, her answer was a qualified "No..." She needed a bit more time to make up her mind.

  Jim had followed the proposal a week later with, "Why don't we move in together. That might help you make up your mind."

  Raised in a Christian home with the motto, Marriage First, she disagreed with present society's view of virginity, highly under-estimated as compared to the view held during her grandparent's times. Lexie believed in herself. She valued her self-respect. And she wanted a love as strong as the desire and affection her parents shared.

  Taught to be honest, and unafraid to speak her mind even when tact might serve her better, she followed her qualified "No..." with a letter to her parents. Better words in a letter than to confront her parents in person with the news of what she considered contemplating. In person, her father was capable of tying her up and locking her in her room. Her mother of course would intercede. After all, hadn't Leatrice lived in Seth's home for a year before their marriage, albeit, as his housekeeper. Not a solid excuse to fall back on, as Leatrice had also been raised with strong moral principles. Lexie wondered if Jim loved her enough to resist his sexual desires until after they spoke their vows. For herself, she felt no hurry. And that worried her. Because if she truly liked him — loved him, that is, shouldn't she at least feel tempted not to fight her desire. One of the reasons for her qualified "No..." She needed to speak to Jim on a very personal level.

  CHAPTER FOUR