Yellow Rose Bride (13 page)

“Take a week,” he argued. “Think about it. Talk it over with your mother. You'll see it's a very generous offer.”

Yes, it was generous. Too generous. How did a sheriff get that much money?

“You'll not get another one to match it.” He fished his meaty hand from his pocket. “I took the liberty of having an agreement drawn up. I'll leave it with you. You sign it, send it to me at the sheriff's office, and I'll have your money within a week.”

He extended the paper to her and, after hesitating, she took it. Taking it wasn't the same as agreeing, she told herself.

“Sign it,” he urged. “And get on with your life.”

“Good day, Sheriff.”

After a pointed hesitation, the sheriff turned on his heel and went to his horse. Hauling his bulk astride, he gave her one last glance, then rode away.

Vonnie stepped back and slammed the door, then leaned against it and closed her eyes, fighting the tears that threatened. Furious with herself for letting the sheriff get to her like that, she pounded the door with her fist.

“Adam Baldwin! This is all your fault!”

It was irrational, but somehow it seemed to her, at that moment, that the whole rotten situation was Adam's fault.

“Why didn't you love me enough to fight for me?”

There. She'd said it. To herself, assuredly, but she'd said it. The thing that had been gnawing at her for seven long years. And now that she'd said it to herself, she was going to say it to Adam. He hadn't
loved
her enough to fight for her. Yes, she had insisted on annulling the marriage, but he had agreed. Without a fight.

Her decision made, she grabbed her bonnet and rushed out of the house without thought of consequence.

Quickly saddling her horse, she rode at a fast clip toward the Baldwin ranch with Suki following, tongue lolling out as she loped along behind.

Knowing that Adam would be working outside, Vonnie checked the barn first. She found him there, mucking out stalls.

Dust motes floated in the air. The fragrance of freshly
cut hay mixed with that of horse manure and seasoned wood. Her eyes adjusted slowly to the dim barn interior.

She stood in the doorway for a moment, staring at him.

Turning, he caught her staring. “What are you doing here?”

His low voice brought her out of her trance. Lifting her chin, she took a deep breath, then said, “I have something I need to say, Adam.”

“Oh?” He leaned on the hay fork. “This should be interesting.”

His amusement fed her fury.

“Only the lowest, vilest kind of animal would have his fiancée ask his former wife to make her wedding gown!” Her accusation ricocheted off the barn wood.

He sobered. Straightening, he carefully leaned the pitchfork against the stall. “I didn't want Beth to ask you to make her dress.”

“Well, she did.”

“And you think I encouraged her to ask you?”

“Why else would she?”

“Well, let's see. Because you're friends? Because you make beautiful dresses? Because you're the best seamstress around? Any of those reasons ring a bell with you?”

She hated it when he was logical.

“Then why didn't you head her off? Why didn't you tell her I was too busy?”

“Because I'm not running your business,” he returned. “You tell her you can't do it. Make up a reasonable excuse. You've got too much work as it is.”

“You're absolutely right I've got too much work. The birds—”

“Sell the birds.”

She gasped “What?”

“Sell the birds!”

“I can't. They're Daddy's—”

“Teague's gone. The birds are yours. You're hanging on to them out of pure orneriness.”

Stung and looking for a fight, she planted her hands on her hips. “I'd rather be stubborn than a coward, Adam Baldwin.”

“Coward!” he bellowed.

“Only a coward would run whining to the sheriff about my birds.”

“Where did you get that cockamamie idea? I don't need Lewis Tanner to take care of my problems. Seems like you need somebody, though, since you can't keep those birds in their pens.”

“That wasn't my fault!”

“Then whose fault is it?” He towered over her, his face flushed with heat and anger.

“Yours!” she shouted, suddenly remembering why she'd come here in the first place. “Everything…” Her breath caught. “
Everything's
your fault!”

A puzzled look crossed his face. “My fault? How is your being unable to keep your birds in their pens my fault?”

The words burst into her throat. Before she could stop them, they rolled out unchecked. “Because you
wouldn't fight for me. You didn't
love
me enough to fight for me!”

She could have cut her tongue out. How could she have said that? But now that she'd started, she couldn't stop.

He shifted his hand on one hip. “What are you talking about?”

“You didn't love me enough to fight for me.” Horrified, she heard her voice break.

He looked as if she'd slapped him.

“Where do you come off accusing me of that? If you recall, lady, I
wanted
to fight for you. You were the one who said you wanted ‘to pretend the marriage never happened.'”

“I was fifteen. You were wiser—you should have known better.” To her horror, she was crying.

Anger tightened his features. “I loved you more than my life, Vonnie. It killed me to walk away from you that night. I did it because that's what you wanted.”

A sob caught in her throat. “Do you even know the meaning of the word
love?
”

“Oh, no you don't. You're not laying this on me. The problem was you didn't love me.”

“I did,” she whispered. “I did, Adam.” A sob caught in her throat.

Turning away, he clenched his fists and raised his eyes toward the barn loft.

She needed proof that he had cared about her back then, that all these years of mourning him had been justified. “What were we doing the first time we kissed?”

Turning back, he met her eyes. She could never remember him looking so virile, so attractive—so forbidden.

“What were we doing?”

“You don't remember, do you? How can you say you cared when you can't even remember.” She remembered every day, every hour, every moment they had spent together.

“We were standing under the juniper near Liken's Pond.”

“Where were we when we had our first argument?”

“At the Doughertys' barn dance. You thought I paid too much attention to Lucinda Brown. It was—” he pinned her with a challenging look “—eight-thirty on a Friday night and it was cold out. Unusually cold. I'd just gotten you a cup of cider and you turned on your heel and walked off with your nose in the air.”

Her voice dropped to a whisper. “The day I sprained my ankle?”

“You insisted on trying to jump off the haystack, and you landed wrong. You were wearing a blue-sprigged dress with white lace and some other sort of frilly stuff around the collar. And—” he leaned closer “—you were so pretty I wanted to kiss you right then and there.

“I had to take you home on my horse, and if I remember right, I was late getting home. P.K. was angry, but I told him a snake spooked my horse, and it threw me and ran away and I had to walk home. I missed supper that night.”

The air in the barn was suddenly deathly still.

“Why didn't you just tell him that we'd gotten married, that I was going to be your wife until the day I died,” she whispered. His jaw firmed, and she could see obstinacy flare in his eyes.

“We weren't married at the time.”

Furious, Vonnie shoved at his chest, throwing him off balance.

Before she could shove him again, Adam grabbed her arms. “Will you calm down?”

“I am calm.”

“You're pitching a temper fit.”

They glared at each other for an emotion-charged moment, before he released her. “You're right, we were young, but it's too late to change things now.”

Her lips trembled. “Yes, you're engaged to be married.”

“You don't have to remind me of that.”

Her fingers tingled with the desire to touch him, to brush her fingertips across his face, to explore his rugged features. The realization of what she'd lost was too much to endure.

“I'm sorry I wounded your pride,” she said quietly. “I know you'll never forgive me. I never meant to hurt you.” Even to her ears her voice sounded small, vulnerable, in the large barn. “I've relived that night a thousand times. If I could change one moment, I would, but I can't.”

“That's nice to hear, but it changes nothing.”

She closed her eyes, momentarily, before opening them to look up at him. “I still think you should have ordered Beth not to ask me to make the dress.”

She walked out of the barn, head held high, and mounted her horse.

As she rode away, she glanced back to see Adam watching from the barn door. She kneed the mare into a gallop, heading toward the Flying Feather with Suki trotting behind.

V
onnie drove the buckboard into town in late October for supplies. Running the ranch and household was wearing her down.
Lord, what am I going to do if Mama doesn't pull out of her despair? I can't face this alone.

She tied the team to the hitching rail and turned to see Beth and Hildy Mae bearing down on her.

“How fortunate to bump into you!” Beth exclaimed. “I was going to ride out to the ranch later, but now you've saved me the trouble.”

“I have?” What could Beth want now?

“It's about my wedding gown,” Beth said. She dropped her voice. “I'm worried sick. You are going to make it, aren't you?”

“Yes, Beth…I told you—”

“Because I wouldn't feel married if you didn't. My goodness, we've been friends forever. Promise me right here and now you'll make that gown.”

“I will, Beth. Have…you set the date?”

Beth heaved a sigh. “I think I'm leaning toward a fall ceremony now—definitely fall, if not next winter.”

Vonnie smiled, recognizing the sincerity on her friend's lovely face. The uncomfortable situation wasn't Beth's fault. If she had to work day and night, she would make her gown and it would be one of her most lovely works. “Rest assured, Beth. I will make your gown. I thought I had promised you.”

“Oh, you did! I just know how much work you have, and I was afraid you might have had second thoughts.”

“I've given you my word.”

If only the words weren't bitter as gall.

 

A faint blush of early-winter light filtered through the windowpane. Vonnie rolled to her side struggling to adjust her eyes to the light. The clock chimed six times.

The pane needs cleaning. Maybe she would ask Franz to do it.

No, she couldn't keep imposing on Franz. He had been over every day for the last three months to help. There was a limit to his kindness, and the ladies at church soon wouldn't be able to help with Audrey. Snow would come.

Dressing quickly, she knocked on Cammy's door before going downstairs.

“Momma?”

When there was no answer, she opened the door a crack. Cammy sat in front of the window in her dressing
gown, as if she planned to get dressed, like she had every morning for as long as Vonnie could remember. Vonnie knew that was not her intention today. After a while, she would crawl back into bed and sleep the day away.

“Momma, it's a lovely day. Let's bundle up tightly and go for a ride. Maybe go see Audrey.”

“No. I'm…not feeling well,” Cammy said, passing the tips of her fingers across her forehead in a gesture that was becoming all too familiar.

Vonnie suppressed a sigh. “At least get dressed. I'm making pancakes for breakfast. You love pancakes.”

“I'm not hungry—”

“Mother, if you don't come downstairs,” Vonnie threatened, “I'm going to dress you like a rag doll and personally carry you down!” It must be a hint of Teague's temper surfacing that made her impatient with her mother today. But, Vonnie reminded herself, Teague had never lost patience with Cammy.

The older woman's lower lip trembled. Opening her mouth, she quickly closed it again. Her mouth curled down at the corners; tears welled in her eyes. “I'm a burden on you.”

“Momma,” Vonnie said, knelt beside Cammy's chair and took the thin, cool hands in her own. “You're not a burden to anyone. I worry about you. It's not like you to sit up here and do nothing. Daddy would be heart-broken to see you like this. He liked you doing things, knitting, cooking. You know it's true.”

Cammy focused on her daughter's face. “You're
right,” she said. “You're right. Teague would be disappointed with me, wouldn't he?”

“Yes, Mother, he would.”

Cammy's fingertips briefly touched Vonnie's cheek. “I'm sorry, darling child. I have been a burden. I miss your father so. He's been gone so long.”

“It's all right to miss him, Momma. I do, too.” Every day was a trial without Teague's revitalizing authority. No thunderous sound of his laughter, no voice calling out unexpectedly, “Puddin', get out here! There's something I want you to see!”

“He was such a fine man,” Cammy whispered. “So good. I don't know what's wrong with me lately. It seems I can't…think clearly.”

“I know and it's understandable, but you've got to try. Begin by getting yourself dressed and coming downstairs to breakfast. I'm making the best blueberry pancakes you've ever tasted!”

“You do that,” Cammy said, her eyes brightening, “and I'll eat a whole stack of them.”

Hugging her tightly, Vonnie felt tears stinging her eyes. Today was going to be a turning point. Soon life would be normal again.

“Ten minutes, Momma.”

Tripping downstairs, she hummed a tune. Maybe she
was
beginning to pull out of her grief. Oh, the sorrow hadn't lessened. She knew that. But maybe Momma wouldn't drown in it.

She got out the fixings for pancakes, pausing to stare
past the blue-and-white checked curtains to the ostrich pens. What if Mama never got any better? What would they do? She set the big blue mixing bowl in the center of the table and dropped into a chair, hands gripped tightly together.
“Lord, be with her. I can take care of her physically, but I can't clear her mind or give her a reason to go on living. If it be Your will, give Momma back to me. Please.”

Ten minutes later, Vonnie had the big iron skillet hot and the pancake batter mixed.

“Where are those hotcakes?” Cammy asked, stepping into the kitchen. She was dressed in a dark blue wool dress that had been one of Teague's favorites. Vonnie felt so relieved laughter bubbled up inside her.

“Sit yourself down at the table,” she said, pouring a cup of coffee. “And get your mouth set for a feast.”

Fifteen minutes later, their plates nearly licked clean, mother and daughter lingered over cups of coffee. For the first time in months, the atmosphere in the kitchen felt normal. Comfortable, effortless, relaxed.

“This is good,” Cammy said. “I didn't know how much I'd missed sitting at this table with you.”

“I've missed you, too, Momma.”

“I haven't been myself lately, have I?”

Vonnie smiled. Cammy had always possessed an inner strength that many admired, and it wasn't likely to change, but during the months since Teague's shockingly sudden death, she had wavered—understandable for a woman who had lost a vital part of herself. Hope
fully, they were putting that behind them now. Together, they would go on without Teague, remembering the joy he had brought into their lives. Now if she could put Adam in the same box, tie it neatly and resume her life, too…Cammy had an abiding faith in God that would see her through awful tragedy. Did she have that same deep faith? Sometimes she feared she didn't…not like Momma.

Sighing, Cammy studied her hands. “It's been so…difficult. Your father and I have been together so long—”

Vonnie squeezed her hand, then jumped when someone pounded on the back door.

Startled, Cammy sat up straighter. “Who would come visiting so early in the morning?”

“I don't know,” Vonnie hurried to answer the impatient summons. Opening the door, she saw the hired hand, his face a mask of concern.

“Roel? What's wrong?”

“
Buenos dias,
Señorita Taylor. Two of the birds, they are very sickly this morning. Someone's been in the pen…you should come quickly.”

“Two more?” Vonnie breathed. “Momma, I've got to check the birds.”

“Go ahead,” Cammy waved Vonnie out the door. “I'll take care of the dishes.”

“Thanks, Momma.”

Vonnie followed Roel out to the pens, and she immediately saw that he was right. Two of the ostriches were “drooping” again. Standing alone in separate corners of the pen, they looked dull and listless.

Entering the holding crib, Vonnie approached the rooster closest her. The adult male was smaller than the hen, with prettier feathers. His bright red legs meant he was breeding now.

“Quiet,” she crooned, not sure she knew what she was doing. “I want to look at you a bit.”

Slowly edging closer, she held out her hand until she reached the bird. Cautiously, she circled him, keeping an eye on him but out of reach of his feet in case he decided to kick. This morning he was too ill to be combative.

Smoothing feathers that suddenly seemed dusty and ugly, Vonnie examined the bird. Just the day before, the animal had seemed perfectly healthy.

“Roel, did anything disturb the birds last night?”

“No,
señorita.
I'd have heard them.”

Roel was right. Someone had been in the pens. “This bird has several cuts, bad ones, on this side of his neck. Get me the salve from the shed, will you?”

“
Sí,
immediately.”

Roel returned with the jar of salve, and Vonnie applied it to the fresh cuts. Moving to the other bird, she examined it and found the same cuts and abrasions. She treated the bird accordingly.

When she was finished, she handed the salve back to Roel and then walked the full length of the pen, running her bare hand along the wire.

“Ouch!” she cried softly. She shook her hand, flinging drops of blood across her skirt. Investigating the injury, she found a fresh cut across her index finger.
Wrapping a handkerchief around her finger, she bent to examine the fence.

“How can this be?” she exclaimed softly.

A short piece of wire was wrapped around the fence where two pieces came together to form a square. Enough of the ends had been left sticking out to catch and slice, but not enough to be readily seen. It would take someone running their hand over the wire to find it.

“Or the birds rubbing along the fence,” she muttered. “Roel, come here.”

“Sí?”

“See this?”

Bending closer, Roel focused on the jagged end of wire. “
Sí,
but I do not understand. I checked this section of fence early this morning.”

“We'll walk every foot of wire, running our hands along every inch. Wear gloves—you'll cut yourself. Locate every bit of ragged ends, and remove it immediately. This wire was intentionally rigged to injure the birds.”

“
Sí
…but who could have done such a thing?”

“That's a good question,” she mused. “A very good question.”

Vonnie thought about the answer while they both walked the fence. Who would want to hurt the ostriches? Sheriff Tanner came to mind. He wanted her to sell the birds. Failing that, he wanted her to sell him her land. Either way, the birds would be gone, and that was all he wanted.

But would he go this far?

Yes, she decided. Lewis Tanner would go as far as he needed to achieve an end.

The question was, what was she going to do about it?

 

After that, Vonnie went to the pens first thing each morning, running her hands along the wire to make sure there were no barbed spurs to harm the birds. Either Roel or Genaro performed the same ritual at dark, as well as listening for any disturbance during the night.

Cammy was less inclined to seclude herself in her room lately, but her apathy had returned. Again she retreated into her own world.

For once, Vonnie was too distracted to worry about her. Between watching the birds and trying to keep up with her sewing, there was scarcely a free moment.

One Sunday morning, Vonnie convinced Cammy to dress and attend church with her. Out of habit, they sat in the same pew they'd occupied since Vonnie was born.

Automatically holding the songbook for Cammy, Vonnie kept her eyes away from the Baldwin pew, but she knew what she would find. Beth smiling up at Adam, looking for the world like an angel as her lilting soprano blended harmoniously with his baritone in a spirited rendition of “Blessed Assurance.”

Someone seriously needed to bless her assurance.

The times she'd sat in this same pew and watched Adam and Andrew make faces at her…

More than once, P.K. had thumped his sons on the head with his knuckles to settle them down.

Her mind snapped back to the service as the pastor stood and opened his Bible.

After the sermon, folks greeted friends and neighbors. It was a social hour, the hour of brotherly friendship.

Vonnie and Cammy made their way outside and ran into Judge Henderson, his wife, Maddy, and daughter, Carolyn.

“Camilla, it's so good to see you out and about again,” Maddy exclaimed, “and Vonnie, you look lovely. One of your designs?”

“Yes, it is.” Vonnie's hand self-consciously smoothed the skirt of her dress. The striped, changeable rose silk trimmed with black velvet bands and Vandykes of white Irish guipure lace was striking. The buffalo felt hat trimmed with black velvet and black ostrich feather gave the ensemble a French look she had copied from a catalog.