Free Ellie's Legacy by Ginger Simpson

practice waltz steps. He nodded in
approval. “Yep, I still know how.”

 
    * * * * *

 
    Ellie awoke to bright sunlight streaming through her window.
Using curled fists, she rubbed the sleep from her eyes
and sat up.
    Clothing she’d pulled from her armoire littered the foot of
her bed. Her attempt to find something suitable for the Fall Festival had
proved futile. So much time had passed since she’d worn any of her dresses;
half of them didn’t fit her well-developed bosom and the other half were six
inches too short.
    Disgusted and tired, she’d given up and gone to bed. All
she’d succeeded in doing was making a mess.
    She swiveled around and dropped her feet to the floor. Cold
from the wooden planks penetrated her toes and crept up her bare legs. A path
of goose bumps peppered her skin.
    Ellie yanked the hem of her nightgown down and stood. One
look at the clothing heap made it clear she had a problem. With her feeble
sewing skills and little time left before the dance, she needed to pay another
visit to the mercantile and buy a store-made frock. A shiver ran through her,
but not from the cold; from the recollection of her last trip.
    She gathered everything off the bed. “Like I told Ty, I’m
not about to let the Bryants keep me holed up here on Fountainhead.” Talking
aloud helped bolster her courage. “Besides, I’ll take my gun and be more
careful this time. It’s only a ride to the mercantile and back for heaven’s
sake.” She had to admit, she sounded convincing.
    Ellie dumped the stack back in her armoire. Sorting through
them was a chore for another day. Right now she had more important things to
tend to.
    Hugging herself, she did a little dance around the room,
smiling at the recollection of Ty’s invitation. In her mind, it was his arms
that held her, warmed her. Forgetting the morning chill, she two-stepped over
to the washbowl and filled it with water from its matching pitcher.
    She paused for a moment, admiring the intricate roses
decorating them, and her elation was suddenly replaced with a longing for
someone she barely remembered. The two porcelain pieces were cherished mementos
from her mother.
    A glance at the small framed photo on the bureau made her
wonder again what things would be like had Ma lived. Maybe she’d provide answers
for the million questions Ellie had about the strange feelings she’d been
experiencing, and about men…yes, those cocky, good-looking, blue eyed ones in
particular.
    Ellie peered into the mirror hanging above her toilette
area, and before washing her face, pulled her long hair back and secured it
with a ribbon. The almond-shaped eyes reflecting back at her looked much the
same as those in the picture.
    Tilting her head, she studied the structure of her jaw, her
perfect eyebrows, and the slight dimple in her chin. She smiled at her
reflection, happy she had her mother’s best features, and wishing Ma remained
alive to see them. “If wishes were horses, then beggars would ride.” She
sighed. Where had she heard that before?
    Pushing aside depressing thoughts, Ellie plunged her hands
into the tepid water, cupped her palms to hold the liquid, and then bent to
bury her face in its refreshment. Blindly, she reached for the soap dish,
picked up the small slice that was left, and lathered her face. She rinsed then
dipped a cloth into the sudsy water and performed a quick toilette on the rest
of her body. The cobwebs of sleep vanished, and she felt revived and ready for
the day.
    After dressing, Ellie sat on the bed, pulled on her
well-worn boots, and let her thoughts drift back to Ty. She flashed back to
last’s night conversation, the part where he had actually admitted wanting to
accompany her. That same familiar warmth spread throughout her body again. How
had things changed so fast?
    A few days ago she thought she hated him for his cocky
attitude and the way her father always kept him under a protective wing. Now
she couldn’t wait for the dance.