Bluebonnet Belle (25 page)

The scene brought tears to April's eyes, and she welcomed Gray's embrace when he drew her close to his side.

“Ain't you done enough harm to my girl?” Flora Lee asked quietly.

Jacel didn't move for a moment, then he slowly turned.

“I didn't know she was thinking of doing this, Flora Lee. I hope you believe me.”

“Didn't know you was puttin' my girl in danger? Didn't know she was in th' family way? Didn't know she'd go to that old woman who'd nearly kill her? You a smart boy. Why didn't you
know?
”

Jacel gazed at her, pain evident in his anguished face. “I love this woman. I wouldn't put her in harm's way. I know you don't like me, but that doesn't change how I feel about her. I
love
her, Flora Lee. We both love her. Can't we set our differences aside for the time being?”

The old woman studied the young man's face for several minutes. “Sin has its price. You should know that.”

“Yes, ma'am, I do. And it's too high.” Tears rolled down his cheeks. “I'll be remembering that from now on.”

Flora Lee was silent, then murmured, “Don't mean I changed my mind. I still think you're uppity.”

Regaining his spunk, Jacel countered, “That's fine with me, 'cause I think
you're
uppity. But for Datha's sake, let's keep it to ourselves.”

Eyeing him sourly, she shrank back as he moved to the head of the table, cradling Datha's face in his hands.

“She's my girl,” she reminded him.

“She's my woman.”

“Humph.” Flora Lee glanced away.

“It's all right, baby, Jacel's here. Nothing's going to hurt my Datha. You'll see, it'll all be just fine.” Softly crooning a lullaby, he stroked her cheeks with his thumbs, tears running down his cheeks. “No, sir, Jacel's not going to let anything happen to you, Datha girl. You just rest and get well now, baby. I love you.”

Looking up, he locked eyes with Flora Lee.

She stared back, then turned away.

April shrugged. It was a start.

H
ours before dawn on Saturday morning, Gray arrived at the mortuary. Parking his buggy in the shadows, he trimmed the wick on the lantern, then walked briskly to the back of the house, where April was waiting for him.

Shivering in the predawn chill, she whispered, “Well, I guess this is it.”

“I'd hoped that sometime during the night you'd come to your senses.”

“No. I'm going through with it. How's Datha?”

“Some improvement. Jacel will come for me if there's any change.” Glancing up at Riley's second-story bedroom window, he said softly, “Does he suspect anything?”

“No, he thinks I'm going to be with Beulah all day.”

“Then we'd better go. We'll barely make it as it is.”

They walked to the side of the house, and he lifted her into the buggy. He was about to climb aboard when he stopped, gazing at her in the dim lantern light, his expression grave. “I don't want you to do this.”

Looking straight ahead, she repeated what she'd rehearsed in her head during the short night. “Thank you for your concern, but I'm feeling a little incompetent right now. I need your support instead of condemnation.”

“That's hard to give at this moment.”

“Don't worry. I've left Grandpa a note on my armoire to be opened in case of my death. In it, I explained that you were adamantly against this. He'll find the note only if I don't return. He never goes in my room.”

Gray's eyes blazed with a sudden anger. “You think my only concern is Riley?”

“No…but I know he's your friend—”

“
I
don't want you to do this, April.” Cupping her face in his hand, he made her look at him. “
You
, April. My concerns are for you, not Riley.”

Not for the first time, she envied Francesca, envied her from the very depths of her soul.

Drawing a warm woolen shawl around her shoulders, she said, “I'm ready if you are.”

After climbing into the buggy, Gray slapped the reins across the horse's rump. He was silent now. She could see by the tight set of his jaw that he would like to turn her over his knee and paddle her like an unruly child. But she wasn't a child. She was a young woman with a mission, albeit an unpleasant one. How had her life come to this? This gray, damp morning could prove to be her last. What if the ruse failed? What if Grace's second was wise to ammunition and spotted the trick immediately? The blanks would be replaced with live ammunition and April would be…She couldn't bear to think of Grandpa laying her out in her casket…weeping. Beulah would be so mad she'd never speak to her again—but then, April wouldn't be able to speak. She would be with God….

Oh, dear Father, please don't turn me away
.

Flora Lee's words crowded her mind:
Sin is never without consequence
. Datha lay fighting for her life because of the wrong choice. Would April be next?

Her hands shook as she straightened the lace on the collar of her pale blue dress. She'd purposely not worn jewelry, but she suddenly wished she had the locket her mother had left her.

The horse's hooves clopped loudly along the deserted streets. Two hours, and she would be…What would she be?

Would she be coming back today? Would she ever see Grandpa again? He was unaware that she'd slipped in early this morning and kissed him goodbye.

“Don't think,” Gray said quietly, as if he'd read her thoughts. “Remember what we've practiced. If you think, you'll waver.”

“Don't think, don't waver,” she repeated, going over in her mind the endless hours of practice. The proper way to hold the gun: use both hands, sight carefully, squeeze the trigger slowly—
don't jerk!
Make the pretense look real.

Half an hour before dawn, Burgess loomed before them. April took in the sight with her heart hammering against her ribs.

A small glen just outside of town awaited the dueling parties. By the time they approached, the sun, not yet risen, had begun to pinken the sky. One other carriage sat beneath the trees when Gray pulled the team to a halt.

“Who's that?” April whispered.

“My guess is the doctor.”

April swallowed, her mouth as dry as cotton. “I think I'm going to be sick.”

“Take deep breaths.”

Gray lifted April from the carriage. They walked toward the glen, his arm strongly supporting her.

“If I kissed you right now, would you read anything into it?” he asked.

She knew he was trying to distract her. “Probably.”

“Then I won't.”

A tall, thin man in a black suit stood in the center of the glen.

Their feet crushed the dry, frozen grass; the man turned at the sound of their approach.

“Miss Truitt?”

“Yes.”

He extended a bony hand. “Dr. Reginald Smith. I am here to render my services.”

“Th-thank you. This is Dr. Gray Fuller, my second.”

The man tipped his hat. “A fellow physician. Pleased to make your acquaintances.”

The two men chatted in muted tones as April turned in a circle, memorizing the site. A place where she might soon lose her life. What folly had brought her to this point? Had she completely lost her mind? Henry was not worth one minute of her life. Why, the cad had not even called on her to apologize for his deplorable behavior. She'd seen nothing of him since she'd broken the relationship.

The sound of an arriving conveyance caught April's attention, and the knot in her stomach tightened. Grace Pruitt's carriage, with Henry at the reins, bowled into the glen.

Seeing him with his “intended” made April realize how very real this was. Real and terrifying. Tears filled her eyes and blinded her. Somehow, she'd been hoping, praying, that Grace wouldn't go through with it. She'd hoped—prayed—implored it was a hoax, a humorless farce. But it wasn't. She felt Gray's hand on her shoulder.

Grace was here. April was here. It was real.

Climbing out of the carriage, Henry spoke briefly with Grace, then turned and walked in her direction.

As he approached, his eyes were guarded. “April—I'd like a moment with you.”

“I don't believe we have anything to say to one another, Henry.”

“Dearest, if you only knew how sick, absolutely sick, I am about this. I assure you, I can explain—”

“Henry,” she interrupted.

He paused. “Yes?”

“Were you seeing Grace at the same time you were seeing me?”

“Well…yes, but I can expla—”

April walked away. She'd heard all she needed to hear.

Gray turned as she came to stand by him. His gaze searched hers inquisitively.

“He wants to apologize.”

“Did you accept?”

“Pffft.”

“I need to speak to the rodent for a moment. Anything you want to tell him?”

“Nothing that Grandpa would let me say.”

Gray nodded, then left.

Miller's Glen, in another time, was a lovely site. A place where lovers met to tryst, where promises were given and feelings exchanged. Hundred-year-old oaks bent to form a splendid canopy during summer months.

A light breeze sprang up, fragrant with the smells of winter: faint hints of wood smoke, of the pungent dry leaves underfoot. The sky was dawning a magnificent blue.

Would she ever embrace this kind of day again? Would she ever sit in her favorite chair on the back porch and watch the sun set, walk in the falling rain, eat one of Datha's wonderful dinners? She prayed so. That would mean that both she and Datha had survived—that God had extended them yet more grace.

Tears clouded April's vision, and she blinked them back. Gray wasn't going to see her cry and neither was the enemy. She'd had every opportunity to call this off, and she hadn't, or couldn't.

A stream rippled nearby, a haunting accompaniment to the drama about to take place. As the sun began to peek over the treetops, a mist rose from the glen, shrouding it in privacy.

In a few minutes it would be over.

April watched the sun rise, feeling surreal. This might be the last dawn she would ever see. Not that she'd seen that many. She was usually asleep.

If she lived, she'd do better. She'd watch every sunrise for the rest of her life, no matter how early.

“April?”

She turned at the sound of Gray's voice. “Yes?”

“It's time,” he said. She focused on the box in his hands. The pistols.

Nodding, she willed her feet to move. They were heavy with dread. “I'm coming.”

She avoided Henry's eyes and steadfastly refused to look at Grace. She kept her eyes toward the ground, allowing Gray to steer her into place in the middle of the glen.

“Ladies, are you ready?” The attending doctor's voice seemed unusually loud in the silence.

“Seconds? Prepare yourselves.”

April looked up into Gray's eyes. His hand was steady as he reached out and grasped her shoulder tightly. “God be with you.”

Everything moved in slow motion, and April felt such despair that she was shaken to the very core of her being.

She glanced at Gray, who now stood off to the side, expressionless.

The doctor's hands moved to her shoulders, aligning her against someone's back—Grace, it must be Grace's back. He gave them both a nod.

“Present the weapons.”

Gray presented the pistols, letting Henry and the doctor examine both to make sure they were alike, properly loaded and in suitable condition. They gave no indication that anything was amiss.

“Miss Pruitt, make your choice.” There was a rustling of cloth. “Miss Truitt…” The doctor paused, glancing up, as if he'd made a blunder. “That is your name? Truitt?”

Swallowing, April nodded.

He glanced at Grace. “And yours is Pruitt?”

April was relieved to learn that even Grace was quaking. Her voice sounded uncertain and faraway.

“Yes, sir.”

He looked at Henry, Grace's second, his eyes sizing him up. “Truitt and Pruitt. Interesting. Ladies, take your pistols.”

The gun felt much heavier than when she'd practiced with it, but April grasped it with both hands, holding it upright. The doctor began to count off the paces.

Gray's words echoed in her head:
Turn quickly on the count of ten and fire
. How she wished she was still shooting at bottles and cans!

She felt her knees weaken. Quickly, on the count of ten…

“One.”

Keep the gun up, squeeze the trigger….

“Two.”

Slowly. Squeeze it slowly….

“Three.”

Don't jerk. Whatever you do, don't jerk.

“Four.”

Why didn't you accept Gray's kiss? So
what
if you read something into it?

“Five.”

“Six.”

What had he meant by that? What was she
supposed
to read into it?

“Seven.”

Back out. Right now. Throw the gun down and run
. So what if Grace came to Dignity? She'd fight her there.

“Eight.”

“Nine.”

If you're going to do it, do it now!

“Ten!”

Whirling, April fired. Two shots rang out, then smoke mingled with the gray mist, engulfing her, muffling Gray's shout of agony.

Closing her eyes, April sank slowly to the ground, waiting for the pain to take her.

The fear that Grace would be unethical and bring her own weapon had come true.

April lay rigid on the ground, afraid to move, afraid to die, certain blood was pouring from a gaping wound.
Please, God, let me go quickly and mercifully
. She wasn't any good at dying; she was reasonably sure of that. If she went quickly, Gray would be spared the humiliation of watching her wither in agony, blubbering a coward's lament as the life oozed out of her.

“Miss Truitt?”

The attending doctor knelt beside her. At least she wouldn't die alone. “Tell Grandpa I'm sorry….”

“Miss Truitt!”

“Don't prolong my suffering, please.”

“Get up. You're not shot.”

“But the bullet…it…”

“Doctor!” Henry's voice rang out. “Over here!”