Yellow Rose Bride (18 page)

“M
omma, I'm going for a ride. Eugenia's here with you.”

Vonnie knew that it mattered little to Cammy whether anyone was there or not, but she didn't want her mother to come downstairs, find Vonnie gone and not know where she was.

“You take as long as you need,” Eugenia told her. “Just as long as I'm home by dinnertime. My cat gets fussy if his meals aren't on time.”

“Thank you. I won't be long.”

Saddling her mare, Vonnie rode slowly until the house faded from sight. If only she could leave her problems behind as easily.

Kicking the mare into a gallop, she let the wind whip freely through her hair. It was early, but a heavy frost glistened on the ground.

She rode toward the canyon, thinking she might find
peace. How long had it been since she'd felt carefree? Many months, but it seemed like years. Since her father died? Or before? Since she and Adam had married?

Suddenly the ring of hammer against wood penetrated her consciousness. Her focus followed the sound, and she saw Adam's big bay in the distance, a rope wrapped around the saddle horn with the other end attached to wire, stretching it taut so Adam could nail it to a post.

Had she ridden this direction without realizing it, looking for him?

Adam straightened, hooked the hammer in his back pocket, and signaled his horse to keep stretching the wire as he moved to the next post. The sharp wind had stung his features bright red.

She'd thought he was handsome when he was seventeen, but the years had added character to his face and substance to his body. Muscles that had been lean were now heavier and mature. Where he'd once been a charming boy, now he was a striking man.

How could she consider staying in town once he and Beth were married? It would be impossible. Moving to San Francisco with her mother now seemed the only answer. Her seamstress business was growing; she was known back East. With a little word-of-mouth advertising and lots of hard work, she could build an even larger clientele in California. Beth's dress—or the beginning—was on her cutting table. Should Adam's bride's dress be her last here in the county?

Adam glanced up and spotted her. Straightening,
he removed his gloves. Planting his hands on his hips, he studied her as she rode toward him.

Her mouth was suddenly as dry as winter clay. Not even a wind disturbed the thread of tension between them.

She wished he would say something. Anything, except stare at her. She would say something, but she couldn't think of anything. His face was shadowed by the brim of his hat; she would have liked to see his eyes. His expression.

“I…was riding.”

“Yeah,” he said, pushing his hat to the back of his head. “Little cold for riding, isn't it?”

She glanced around. “Where's Pat and Joey?”

“I was riding fence alone and found a section down. Decided to put it back myself. What are you doing out here? Lose more birds?”

“No.”

She started to dismount, and he stepped closer to give her a hand. Her knees suddenly felt like apple-sauce, and she blamed the condition on lack of exercise for several days. It was a lame excuse, she knew. Lack of exercise didn't cause the problem; it was Adam affecting her this way.

“Just riding?” he asked.

“Yes, I needed some time alone.”

“Your mother okay?”

“The same.”

They paused beside the fence posts.

“Any new
accidents?
”

“No. Andrew stops by to check. He'll let you know if there's any more trouble.”

His expression was taut and derisive. “Andrew is very obliging lately.”

“I appreciate his help.”

“You're flirting with trouble.”

Her eyebrows lifted. “Flirting?” She was offended by the implications. “I've never flirted with Andrew!”

“Looks like it to me.”

“I have not!” Then the thought struck her. “Why, you're jealous!”

“Ha!” He laughed hollowly. “Jealous of you and Andrew?”

“You have no reason to be.”

His gaze raked her boldly. “You visited with him the other night, didn't you?”

“Yes. Not that it's any business of yours.”

When a silence descended, she felt compelled to change subjects. “What should I do about Tanner?”

He picked up the canteen and took a long drink. After wiping off the rim, he extended it to her. “What do you mean, what should you do about him?”

“Should I sell out to him? Or should I stay?” She took a drink from the canteen.

He drank from the canteen again, then ran the back of his hand across his mouth. “What do you want to do?”

“I don't know. Tanner might not be behind the trouble, but he hates the ostriches. If he wants to buy my land, he's going about it the wrong way. Then again, who
knows? Maybe I'm on the wrong trail. Tanner may not be causing the trouble. Why not Roel or Genaro, or even Franz, for that matter?”

“Or P.K.?”

Glancing away, she realized the town had been gossiping again. “I shouldn't have said that.”

“You shouldn't have thought it.”

“Do you know for certain your father isn't doing this?”

“Now you are talking crazy.”

Nearby, a small stream gurgled. Melting snows lapped the banks.

“Don't worry about Tanner.”

She glanced up. “Why not?”

“We talked, and I don't think he'll be bothering you again.” He pulled his gloves on.

“You talked to him?”

“He claims he isn't the one causing the trouble.”

“Do you believe him?”

“No, but then there's not much I believe unless I see it for myself.”

When had he become so cynical? she wondered.

“Then you do think he would have killed the bird to scare me?”

“He's capable of it.” He turned to her, his face serious now. “You be careful, Vonnie. I—” He stopped; she knew that whatever he'd planned to say was about them and he would never complete the thought—not openly.

“Just be careful,” he finished, his eyes lightly skimming her.

Warmth flooded her, followed by the usual wave of sadness that accompanied thoughts of him. They would have had children by now…one, two. She shook the thought aside. He had been hers once, if only for a brief time. But that time had been enough to alter her life forever. She would never look at a man in the same way as she did him; no man would ever touch her heart in the same way, or as deeply.

V
onnie rode into the barn lot of the Flying Feather, wishing she'd not wandered so close to Cabeza del Lobo.

She was still in love with Adam Baldwin as surely as the sun came up each morning. Loved him more than the day they'd run off to get married. She'd tried to deny it, told herself Adam wasn't worth the grief he caused, but the love did not diminish, it only grew.

She tried to believe he was a part of her past. A pleasant memory. For years she'd buried her feelings. What had brought those feelings back so strongly now? The fact that he was going to marry another woman. He was going on with his life. And she should move on with her own.

After unsaddling her mare at the barn, she went to the house.

“Oh, there you are,” Eugenia said, laying her crocheting aside. The house smelled of fresh-baked apple pie.
For a moment Vonnie was overcome by a feeling of déjà vu. The house seemed almost normal.

“Hildy, Mora, Beth and Carolyn stopped by. I told them I didn't know when you'd be back.”

“Sorry I missed them,” Vonnie murmured. Leaning over, she patted Suki. “I guess Beth was checking on her dress?”

Eugenia sighed. “For a bride-to-be, Beth doesn't seem real enthusiastic. Is she feeling poorly?”

“Not that I'm aware.”

“I put a pie in the oven. Thought Cammy might enjoy a piece later.”

“Smells wonderful. Did Mother come down?”

“No.” Eugenia glanced at the empty stairway. “I'm afraid not.”

“I've heard her moving around.”

Gathering her materials, Eugenia eased into her slippers. “I'll take the pie out as I leave.”

 

When the door closed, Vonnie climbed the stairs, peeked in on Cammy, then retreated to her sewing room and closed the door. Being back in her room was comforting, but it didn't take away the weight of the day.

She was thankful she'd missed the girls' visit. She wasn't up to socializing this afternoon.

Picking up the dress she was hemming, she tried to concentrate. After a few minutes of ripping out more than she saved, material lay pooled in her lap, the needle exactly where she'd abandoned it.

She wasn't sure how long she had sat there before she heard a wagon roll into the yard. When she went to the window to investigate, she saw that it was Franz.

He laboriously climbed down from the seat, then disappeared into the barn. She supposed he was planning to finish sorting out a harness that hadn't been touched in years. He'd told her he could repair and oil it, and then she could sell it, get it out of the way and into the hands of someone who could use it. Besides, it would give her a few extra dollars, he'd said.

She was far from destitute, but it never hurt to be cautious.

She wanted to pay Franz more for all he was doing for her. She planned for the proceeds from the harness to go to him. It was the least she could do, in view of all he'd done to help, and the money would be welcome for Audrey's medical expenses.

Restless, she tossed the dress aside and ventured downstairs. As she entered the barn, she heard Franz softly whistling a German Christmas carol.

Letting her eyes adjust to the dim light, she saw he was polishing a harness. He had it stretched over the side of a stall, whistling as he worked.

“Hello, Franz. Cold today, isn't it?”

“Ah, Vonnie,” he said, looking over his shoulder. “It is a fine day, indeed.”

She wasn't sure why she'd come to the barn. Just needed someone to talk to, she supposed, and Franz was like a second father. If anyone understood love, he did.

“Audrey feeling stronger today?”

His hand momentarily rested on the harness. “My Audrey is very tired.”

Sinking onto a bale of straw, Vonnie sat quietly for a moment, watching him work.

Glancing up, Franz frowned. “Something bothering you, little one?”

“I'm sorry. Your problems make mine small in comparison.”

“You have problems? A pretty little thing like you? You should be married, you know. With a house full of children.”

Studying her hands, she said softly, “That's the problem, Franz. I love someone I can't have.”

Franz rubbed the harness to a dull shine with an oily rag. “This is a sad thing, to love someone who already has a wife—”

“Oh, he's not married,” she corrected, “Yet.”

He looked up. “Ah, then it is Adam. Yes?”

“He's not married, but he is engaged,” she confessed, which admittedly was nearly as bad as being married. She wondered if she was that transparent, or if he was unusually perceptive. “Yes, Adam. I've loved him forever.” Leaning back, she stared at the rafters piled high with hay. “Once I thought he loved me, but he doesn't anymore.” Sighing, she stuck a piece of straw into her mouth.

“I was so naive. I thought we'd love each other forever, that P.K. and my father would solve their differences, whatever they were. P.K. would accept the fact
that Adam and I were in love, and Daddy would give us his blessing. But now Daddy's gone, and Adam is going to marry Beth Baylor.” She drew a deep breath, blinking against hot tears suddenly burning her eyes.

“Love is a complicated state,” Franz consoled.

She shrugged. “I can sell the ostriches, and my immediate problems will be over. Mother's sisters want her to come to San Francisco to live with them, and maybe that's what she should do. I don't know.”

“Making a decision too quickly can be a bad thing,” Franz cautioned. “Too many times we live to regret it.”

She loved Franz's quiet way, his precise way of speaking with the heavy German accent that had not softened over the years.

“What would you do, Franz?”

His voice gentled. “Ah,
liebchen,
I cannot tell you what to do. I, too, have a great many worries.”

“I know. Audrey's illness has been terribly hard on you.” She felt small for bending his ear on her trivial problems.

“Sadly, there is nothing we can do for Audrey. You have been good friends to her.” He let the harness hang while he added more oil to the cloth. “But perhaps there is something I can do for you. Advice, for whatever it is worth.”

“I always value your advice. What would you do?”

“They are only my thoughts—”

“Please, Franz.”

“Your father worked hard to build this ranch. I would
not sell it. And I would not sell the birds. That, too, was your father's dream. He was a good man.”

“Yes, he was,” she said.

“But perhaps a change would be good for your mother. This is a place that…has many memories for her. Perhaps too many memories.”

“Yes, maybe I am being selfish. Judge Henderson thinks the move might be good for her. I only thought staying here would be more comfortable for her.”

“For some it would be this way, but for Cammy, perhaps a new place, without the memories, would be better for her. For a time.”

“Then you think I should accept Aunt Josie's invitation to live with them in San Francisco?”

“At least go for a very long visit,” he said. “Cammy would be near to those who love her. I know my Audrey would like that, if she had family left. Perhaps the wound could then begin to heal.”

“Yes. Heal. What a wonderful word,” Vonnie murmured. “But there's the ranch to see about, and Momma can't make the trip by herself.”

“I will stay here at the ranch, see that the ostriches are cared for until she is settled.”

“I could be gone for some time,” she said.

“I will bring Audrey with me, if that is all right with you. The change might do her good, like your mother.”

“That's a lot of work for you, Franz. I couldn't expect—”

“I am an old man, but not helpless,” he gently re
minded her. “Besides, Roel and Genaro are here to help, and the other ranch hands.”

Vonnie's face turned sober. “I know. I didn't want to impose on your goodness, Franz. You've done so much for me already.”

“Then you will allow me to help you?”

“I…let me think about it, Franz. I'll talk to Mother and see how she feels about visiting Aunt Josie and Aunt Judith.”

“And if she will go?”

“Then, I'll take her there permanently.”

Franz returned to cleaning the harness, and Vonnie stared out at the ostrich pens, her mind no more settled than before. What Franz said made sense. If she stayed, more than likely there was nothing but heartache ahead.

The birds strutted around the pens, occasionally pecking at the ground. They would be drumming soon, males and females trying to attract one another in preparation for egg-laying season. Her father had enjoyed the process of choosing the best birds, pairing them, planning for the laying, and then the hatch.

They'd been through numerous hatchings and care of the new babies, and while it had been a tedious process—making sure newborn legs didn't bow, carefully measuring their feed—her father had reveled in it. She smiled, remembering his joy at having fifty percent of the little hatchlings survive. A very good percentage, he'd boasted.

“My father loved this ranch,” she said, more to herself. “I feel I'd betray him by selling.”

“You will decide what is best.”

“My father was a fighter, wasn't he?”

“That he was,” Franz agreed.

“He would stay and fight.”

Franz cleaned the harness, softly humming as he worked the oil into the dry leather.

“But if I lost Momma, too…”

Suddenly the answer was clear to her. If the move would restore her mother to her former self, that would be Teague's wish.

“Thank you, Franz.”

“You have decided what you will do?”

“Not entirely. But with Daddy gone, Momma not herself, Adam getting married, what is here for me?”

“Then you will sell?”

“I think it's my only choice.” She patted the old man's arm. “Thank you, again. Give Audrey my love, and tell her I'm praying for her.”

 

Judge Henderson settled more deeply into his favorite chair and sipped his coffee, watching Adam stare out the window at the deepening twilight.

“What did you find out?”

The judge studied the bottom of his glass. “Tanner has a serious buyer. Spoke to him about it this morning. He had a question on the title, so it was easy to find out who the prospective buyer is. A speculator from back East. Money. Plans to move out here as soon as the deal is closed.”

“So, Tanner was telling the truth.”

“It seems he told the truth about wanting Vonnie's ranch, too. His buyer is willing to pay her whatever it takes to get the land.”

“But it wouldn't be beyond Lewis to threaten her, to frighten her into selling out to him?”

“Ordinarily, I'd say no, but in this instance, I can't be sure. From what Tanner tells me, he won't be making a penny on Vonnie's land. Purely a bonus for his buyer. His land is sold, providing the buyer comes to terms with the ostriches being there.

“Something is always going wrong over there. Frankly, I'm puzzled by what's happening.” Adam stepped away from the window.

“A severed head falling out of the cabinet. What a cruel, hateful thing for someone to do.”

“I can't imagine how it was accomplished. Killing the bird without creating a disturbance, then getting into the house. Who, other than Tanner, wants to see Vonnie gone? And why? If Tanner has a buyer for his land then he has no motive.”

“Teague had no enemies?”

“I'm sure he did—doesn't every man?”

“He and your father didn't get along,” the judge suggested.

“P.K.'s a thorny old goat, but he wouldn't sink this low, even if he had a motive, which he doesn't.”

His father had hated Teague enough to strike out, but he would never seek bitterness and revenge on Teague's
daughter. Sure the family needed money, but Baldwins wouldn't stoop so low as to harass a woman.

“P.K. and Teague didn't care for each other and that's the bottom line. P.K. wouldn't go out of his way to create trouble for Teague, and he wouldn't go to any effort to help him out. Teague's gone. Past forgotten.”

“You don't have to remind me what P.K.'s like,” the judge grunted. “Don't know how you've put up with him all these years.”

“I know him better than anyone,” Adam said. “Hard, unyielding, unforgiving, but evenhanded and fair. He's never dealt under the table, you know that.”

Even if he lost the ranch, P.K. would do what he felt was right. Adam remembered his father talking about the jewels. He'd have taken those all right, but that was different. Wasn't it?