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She bent over her knees as painful memories assailed her.
At only twelve years of age, Suzette, her dearest friend in the whole world, had drowned, leaving Sybil, also twelve at the time, lost, afraid and missing a very large portion of her heart.
She’d recovered enough at age sixteen to give her heart to Colin, the preacher’s son. They’d spent hours talking of their hopes and plans, and dreaming of a future together. She’d finally found a soul mate to replace Suzette. She had opened her heart to Colin, expecting his attention to grow into a formal courtship. She even dreamed of the frothy white dress she’d wear at their wedding, and considered where they might live. For the first time since Suzette’s death she’d felt whole and eager to share her thoughts and dreams.
No one had warned her it was temporary. Colin had never hinted that he’d changed his mind about how he felt about her, but a year after they met he left without a word of explanation. He never wrote or made any effort to keep in touch.
Another slice of her heart was cut off.
Losing her parents to fever a year and a half ago, within a few weeks of each other, had been the final blow.
From now on, she vowed, she would guard her heart, though she had very little of it left.
She sat up. Why was she having this argument with herself? It wasn’t as if being rescued by Brand meant anything. As he said, he was simply in the right place at the right time. It made sense that she would feel some type of bond with a man who saved her life. But that’s all it was.
Intending to calm herself, she pulled a notebook to her lap, just as Mercy rapped on the door and entered, without waiting for an invitation to do so.
Mercy nodded at the journal. “I’m guessing you’re writing all about that handsome cowboy.”
Her friends knew she made short notes about each day in her diary. They would never believe she wrote for publication. She’d never told them. Most people she knew didn’t think a young woman should have her name mentioned in such a public way.
She didn’t mind that as much as knowing most people didn’t think a young woman would have anything of value or interest to say. That had been the comment of the only editor she’d been brave enough to speak to, a couple years back.
But surely Mercy would understand. She didn’t share the same sense of outrage at women doing different things.
Sybil retrieved papers she’d secreted away earlier. “I’m writing a story.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Do you remember reading that article written by Ellis West? You know. The one that described the ship’s captain from our journey here.”
Mercy laughed. “He really made us see the pompous man.”
“I’m Ellis West.”
Mercy snorted. “Ellis West is a man.”
“No. It’s a pseudonym I use.”
Her friend’s eyes widened, then narrowed. “Are you sure?”
Sybil laughed. “Of course I’m sure. Why do you find it so hard to accept?” Was she wrong in thinking Mercy would understand?
“You?” Mercy shook her head. “It just seems so out of character.”
“Look at this if you don’t believe me.” She held out her notes for an article about the life of a cowboy.
Mercy read them through. “You wrote this?”
Sybil sighed. “What does it take to convince you? Remember Mrs. Page on the boat? She’s secretary to the editor of a newspaper back East. She saw me writing and asked about it. I showed her what I’d written about the captain. She asked if I had more. I gave her four stories I’d composed, mostly for the fun of it.” Though even after the rude rejection by the one editor Sybil had seen, the desire to write just wouldn’t leave her. “She took them immediately to the editor, who offered to publish them. I gave him half a dozen stories before I left the ship.” They’d been published and she’d sent several more describing the West and the inhabitants of the territory. She expected they might have already appeared in the Toronto paper. The newspapers didn’t reach Edendale for several weeks after they appeared back East.
Mercy hugged her. “How exciting.”
“The editor has asked me to find a bigger-than-life cowboy and write his story.” He’d offered a nice sum of money for such an article.
