Yellow Rose Bride (10 page)

L
ate Saturday afternoon, Adam was totaling a column of figures when the library door opened. He glanced up, then, recognizing Andrew's distinctive step as he limped into the room, returned to his work.

“Am I interrupting?”

“No. What's on your mind?”

Penciling in the column total, Adam closed the ledger. It was unusual for Andrew to seek his company. The loner of the four Baldwin boys, more withdrawn and serious about life in general than Pat and Joey, Andrew was the balance weight to the younger boys' impetuousness. As a child he had rarely engaged in boyish pranks, and, as a result, he often drew P.K.'s wrath and seldom his favor. P.K. expected his boys to be boys.

As his sons grew into manhood, it had been hard for them to live up to P.K.'s expectations. He wanted them to be men. His kind of men. Men's men.

Removing the spectacles he'd worn since childhood, Andrew cleaned the lenses with a handkerchief before settling them back onto his nose. Nearly as tall as Adam, with the same Baldwin leanness, he was a handsome man, save for the fact he rarely smiled.

The chair squeaked as Adam leaned back and stared at him.

“Books closed for the month?”

“Just balanced out. You'll need to look them over, but we seem to be in good shape.” For the shape they were in. If the situation didn't improve soon, he'd have to ask Beth to set a wedding date. He didn't take to the idea. Or his deception.

“Has P.K. seen them yet?”

“No,” Adam hesitated. “I'm not sure he's that interested in our financial situation.”

P.K. still ran the ranch, but the day-to-day matters had been left to Adam.

Andrew's expression sharpened. “It looks as if he's finally about to turn the reins over to you.”

“I doubt it.”

Adam studied the specially made boot that accommodated his brother's shortened leg. Andrew had never accepted his affliction, nor was he charitable to those who singled him out for pity. He was also the brother who most resented Adam's favor with P.K., and most resented Adam's sense of responsibility toward the younger brothers.

The difference P.K. had made between the two boys
was a sore spot between them since early childhood. P.K. preferred his oldest son and made no bones about it. Adam, his firstborn, was the child who most favored his wife in looks and temperament. When the reins of power were handed down, it was understood that Adam would assume control of Cabeza del Lobo and would be responsible for the ranch.

Adam resented the favoritism as much as his brothers did. He certainly didn't seek it. It created an insurmountable barrier between himself and Andrew, yet he was unable to alter his father's partiality. The younger boys learned to live with it and used it to their advantage, seeking Adam's favor when P.K. vented his fury on them. Andrew had never accepted it.

“Teague Taylor's death appears to have gotten to him.” Andrew limped to the sideboard to pour a glass of tea. The boot made a harsh, grating sound against the pine floor. “Maybe the old man's finally realizing that he's not invincible.”

“He's not exactly a kid anymore.”

Andrew took a bracing sip from the glass, grimacing as the liquid slowly trickled down his throat.

“Think Vonnie will keep the birds?”

“The birds?”

Andrew's lips curled with a mirthless smile. “You've forgotten the ostriches?”

Adam grunted. “Hardly. It took hours to cut them out of the herd and get them back to the Taylor ranch.”

“Yes,” Andrew mused, staring into his glass. “It seems she has her hands full.”

Swinging out of his chair, Adam moved to the file cabinet. “She's a big girl. She can handle it.”
And stubborn as a Missouri mule.

“I'm surprised to hear you say that. I always thought you had a thing for Vonnie Taylor.”

Closing the file drawer, Adam sat down again. “Name one boy in Potter County who didn't.” One of Andrew's rare smiles slipped through, and Adam caught it.

He grinned. “Didn't you?”

“Yes,” Andrew confessed. “I suppose I did.”

“Suppose you did?” Adam repeated, pinching his lower lip between thumb and forefinger as he studied his younger brother. “If I remember right, when you were in the eighth grade you cornered her outside school and kissed her.”

Andrew took another sip of tea and stepped to the window. “You think she'll keep the birds now that Teague's gone?”

“If she's smart, she won't.”

Andrew stared out the window, a pensive look shadowing his features.

“What do you make of her—now that she's grown?”

Adam looked up.

“Who?”

“Vonnie—what do you think of her?”

The question caught Adam off guard. Andrew usually had his own opinions about people and kept them
to himself, rarely expressing an interest in what anyone else thought. As far as women were concerned, he'd never been seriously interested in one, at least not that Adam knew about. He'd always thought it was because of the limp and Andrew's mistaken belief that a woman didn't want to be seen with an “invalid.” Adam believed that many a woman would be proud to be on Andrew's arm, but his brother refused to share the belief.

As he grew older, Andrew had ignored the fairer sex, choosing instead to bury himself in his books. Women ceased to be an issue as far as Adam could tell. Vonnie Taylor was the only girl Andrew ever mentioned. Even as a boy, Adam had known his brother had a crush on her.

“I think she's a beautiful woman,” Adam said.

Turning away from the window, Andrew smiled. “Pity. She appears to have lost her fascination with you.”

Adam ignored the gibe, but the edge in Andrew's voice caught his attention. He knew his brother had resented Vonnie's favoring him. He didn't blame Andrew; he'd have been jealous if he'd thought Vonnie had favored Andrew over him. But that had been a long time ago.

A knock sounded at the library door, diverting his attention. Alma bustled in carrying a tray with two pieces of pecan pie, cups, and a pot of fresh steaming coffee. “Supper's running late, tonight. I've brought something to tide you over.”

Adam glanced at the laden tray. “You spoil us, Alma.”

Pinching Andrew's cheek as if he was still a youngster, she winked. “
Sí,
but the two of you are worth it.”

The housekeeper set the tray onto the desk and added a drop of cream to Andrew's coffee, before bustling out again.

Adam reached for a cup and took a sip of the hot coffee. “Why the sudden fascination with Vonnie?”

Andrew swung to confront him, and Adam recognized the familiar tightness around his mouth.

Meeting his brother's eyes over the rim of the cup, Adam continued. “You just being neighborly, or are you concerned about her?”

Adam cut a bite of pie and savored the rich taste. It struck him as odd that Andrew had been at Vonnie's the night Teague was buried. No more curious than his own unexpected arrival, he supposed, yet it wasn't like Andrew to show such compassion. Not even for Vonnie.

“No particular reason. I'm just curious about what she plans to do now that her father's gone and her mother's no longer responsible. She's a woman alone. Looks like she needs a man to help her. Maybe I should see if I can do anything to ease her load.”

Adam's brow lifted. “Who told you Cammy was no longer responsible?”

“I overheard some of the hands talking. Is it true?”

Pensive now, Adam looked away. “I don't know.”

“Why not?” The sharp edge was still in Andrew's tone. “You've been over there often enough lately. You should know what's going on.”

“Well, Andrew, I don't know what's going on at the Taylors'. It's none of my business.”

Staring into his cup, Andrew turned thoughtful.

“What does Beth think about you spending so much time at the Taylor ranch?”

“I wasn't aware I was spending an undue amount of time over there.” The conversation was taking a nasty turn. “I took her birds back. You got a problem with that?”

“A problem?” Andrew laughed hollowly. “Is the ‘gimp' not allowed to be concerned about a neighbor?”

“Andrew, if you've got something on your mind, spit it out.”

“Things never change, do they? Adam's top dog—Andrew's the pitied one.”

Shoving his cup aside, Andrew got to his feet and limped from the room.

As the study door closed behind him, Adam realized the rift between Andrew and himself was deepening, and there wasn't a thing he could do about it.

Beth Baylor arrived at Cabeza del Lobo around six.

Alma's eyes crinkled in a friendly grin when she opened the door.

“Oh, how
bonita
you look.”

Beth was wearing a dark rose dress with a tight waist, a cascade of lace descending from the top of the neck to the waist. A band of lace decorated the edges of the short, close-fitting jacket, matching that on the hem of the narrow skirt and overskirt. Her blond hair was piled high on her head.

“Adam's in the study with Andrew,” Alma said. “I'm
sure they won't be long. I am in the kitchen. You can join me there, or perhaps you'd like to sit in the parlor—”

“The parlor, please.” Beth peeled off her gloves and handed them, along with her bag, to Alma. “Mmm, something smells wonderful.”

“I put a leg of lamb in the oven earlier,” the housekeeper told her, leading the way toward the back of the house. “Would you like some tea?”

“I'd love a cup, thank you. It was so dusty on the way here.”

As Beth passed the study doors, Andrew burst out, greeting her with little more than a glance.

“Andrew, my goodness, you startled me—”

Her greeting fell on deaf ears as he brushed past her and slowly ascended the stairs to the second floor.

Pushing open the library door, Beth found Adam leaning back in his chair, staring out the window. He turned when she tapped lightly on the door.

“Hello. I know I'm early. Hope you don't mind.”

Adam stood up. “Hello, Beth. I didn't hear you come in.” Moving around the desk, he lightly brushed her cheek with a cursory greeting.

“It's so nice that we're having lamb for supper.”

“Lamb?”

She frowned. “You don't like lamb?”

“It isn't my favorite.”

“Oh, dear. You don't like lamb? Does Alma know? No, I'm sure she doesn't or she wouldn't have prepared lamb for supper. Well, not to worry, darling. I'll just go to the
kitchen and ask her to prepare something other than lamb for your supper. What would you like? Steak? Chops? Chicken—you like chicken. Broiled, baked, stewed?”

Adam felt his hackles rising. “Don't worry about it. Alma knows I'm not partial to lamb, but the others enjoy it so I can—”

“Eat it, but you're just being nice,” she chided. “Really, darling, Alma doesn't mind.” Moving closer, she tripped her fingers lightly along the front of his shirt. “After all, it won't be long before I'm responsible for all your meals, and I need to know your likes and dislikes.”

“Really, Beth—”

“It's not necessary,” she finished for him. “But it is! I couldn't eat a bite knowing that you weren't enjoying your meal.” She bent, giving him a light peck on the mouth. “Relax, darling. I'll go into the kitchen and get the chicken started.”

“Beth, I wouldn't do that. Alma doesn't—”

“Like anyone in her kitchen.” Beth sighed. “I'm sure once I explain the problem she'll welcome the intrusion. She'll want you to be pleased, won't she? Now, relax and let me do my duty.”

Adam released a mental sigh of relief when the door closed behind her.

He wished, just once, she'd let him finish his own sentence.

Beth was back momentarily, and he bit back a grin. She looked like a hen that had just had her tail feathers singed.

“Alma says that you can eat what everybody else is
eating, or you can go hungry. ‘This is not a cantina.' Those were her exact words. She says she will cook one meal and one meal only. She actually was quite rude,” Beth complained. “And I had decided to fix burritos—do you like burritos?”

“I can eat them.”

“But do you
like
them, Adam?”

“I don't know, Beth. Do you like them?” He didn't think Spanish cuisine was standard fare at the Baylor table.

Smiling, she said, “I do if you do.”

“But do
you
like them, Beth? That's the question.”