Yellow Rose Bride (6 page)

“Well, well,” he said, glancing at Cammy, then at Vonnie. “If it isn't the two prettiest little gals in Potter County.”

“Oh, go on with you,” Cammy said, waving a long fork in his direction.

Vonnie was amazed that after thirty-five years, Teague Taylor could still make her mother blush. She
smiled, enjoying her parents' spirited antics. Her mother and dad had an enviable relationship, an affectionate and teasing kind of love that made her long for a marriage like theirs. They'd adopted her young, an infant, but she'd never thought of her birth mother. Cammy was her only mother.

Cammy carried a bowl of potatoes to the table, brushing past Teague on the way and bumping him pointedly with her hip.

With a sweep of his arms, Teague scooped his wife off her feet and held her to his chest in a bone-crushing hug. Protesting laughingly, she swatted at him, demanding to be put down.

Teague and Cammy had that rare relationship, able to weather any crisis that came their way. Theirs was a marriage of respect and mutual trust. A marriage based on love for each other and love of God. Teague and Cammy lived their belief, except for Teague's unrelenting hatred for P.K. Baldwin. If Vonnie could find a man who would make her half as happy as Teague made Cammy, she'd marry him on the spot.

But then, that's exactly what she had done, wasn't it?

Kissing her soundly, Teague set Cammy back on her feet, then hugged Vonnie.

“How you doing, Puddin'?”

“Good, Dad. How about you?”

“If I felt any better, you'd have to tie me down!” He pumped a wash pan full of water, splashed his face and reached for a towel. “Order that lace you wanted?”

“I did. And the buttons. Mr. Beasley's ordering more Duchesse for me. Should be here in plenty of time to finish the Wilson dress.”

“Duchesse, huh? I suppose that's something all womanified and frilly?”

“Something like that.” She grinned. Womanified. “How are the birds?”

“Looking good, ladies. Real good.”

Cammy slid a pan of biscuits from the oven. “Harold Jenson stopped by this afternoon. Said there was a man in Phoenix interested in buying a pair.”

“He wants adults?”

“Harold thought he did—and Lewis Tanner stopped by again. He wants that fifty acres, Teague. He's offering to pay top price for it.”

Teague grunted. “I'll bet he does.”

“Honestly, you ought to consider his offer. We don't need the land.”

“We sure don't
need
Lewis's dirty money. The Good Book says we're to avoid the appearance of evil, that includes taking money earned in ways God wouldn't approve. Besides, you know he hates the birds. He'd like nothing better than to see us sell out to someone who'll run cattle.”

“You'll do what you want, but I think the offer's worth considering.”

Teague switched the subject. “That's the third person this month wanting birds. If I keep selling at this rate I won't have enough roosters for my own flock.”
He rubbed a bar of soap to a high lather and scrubbed his elbows.

“Daddy, I saw Franz when I was in town.”

Teague kept scrubbing. “Did you?”

“He sends his best. He and Audrey are coming for supper Wednesday night.”

Teague rinsed his arms. “Well, your momma will enjoy the company. Hand me a towel there, will you, Puddin'?”

Vonnie stepped to the hutch to get a hand cloth. “Franz said to tell you to put enough sugar in the cobbler this time, Mom.”

“You tell Franz Schuyler that I'm baking the cobbler, not him.”

Handing the towel to her father, Vonnie grinned. “You tell him yourself.”

“Don't think that I won't.”

Drying off, Teague met her gaze. “Heard you danced with Adam the other night.”

Vonnie winced. “Mother.”

“Oh, don't get all flustered. I remarked to your daddy that it was a shame there was such bad blood between him and P.K. Adam's a fine man. Not only handsome, but responsible and levelheaded. A woman could do worse.”

Teague tweaked Vonnie under the chin as he moved to the table. “You stay away from the Baldwins. If I catch you anywhere near one of P.K.'s boys, I'll tan your hide.”

The teasing tone was gone. “I mean it, Vonnie. P.K. Baldwin may go to church and believe in the Almighty,
but he's not my idea of a Christian. I don't want my girl taking up with a nonbeliever—”

Vonnie interrupted. “Adam believes!”

“Nevertheless, you're not to go around him. Besides, he's about to be married.”

Vonnie busied herself with cups and saucers. No use trying to convince him that Adam was a Christian. Teague Taylor held to strict beliefs. He wasn't a man who took his faith lightly. “You don't have to remind me that he's marrying Beth,” she couldn't help adding.

“That's Leighton Baylor's problem, not mine.” He glanced at his wife. “What smells so good?”

“Ham…rhubarb pie,” Cammy announced.

“Rhubarb? You little sweetheart!” He pecked her on the cheek as he walked by. “If we weren't already married, I'd marry you again.” He eyed the heaping plate of meat. “I could eat a horse.”

“Sit down, I'm taking up the gravy right now. Vonnie, honey, hand me a—” Cammy suddenly paused, frowning. “Teague? What's wrong?”

Teague's face had suddenly turned white as a sheet, his mouth tight with pain.

“Daddy?” Vonnie looked up as she was about to place a fork on the table.

Shaking his head as if he didn't understand himself, his left hand drifted to his chest, his fingers curling into his shirt. A puzzled look came into his eyes, then surprise.

“Teague?”

“Daddy?” Vonnie reached out to steady him as anguish
marked her father's face. His gaze met hers, his eyes suddenly full of love. A cold wave of panic swept her.

His mouth opened, but no words came out. Then his legs buckled, and he slumped to the floor, both hands against his chest.

Screaming, Cammy dropped the platter of meat. Ham scattered across the floor, mingling with the shattered china.

“God help us! Teague!” Sinking to her knees, Cammy cradled her husband's lifeless form in her arms. “No, no, no,” she whispered over and over. “You can't do this—you can't do this—you can't leave me—don't leave me, Teague—”

Kneeling beside her father, Vonnie reached for his hand, hoping to find a pulse. There was none.

In the blink of an eye, Teague Taylor had left this earth.

M
ourners began arriving for the funeral mid-morning. Buggies filled the yard of the Flying Feather Ranch; the kitchen table groaned beneath the weight of food brought by thoughtful friends and concerned neighbors. Cammy had withdrawn into herself. Vonnie was concerned about her mother.

Drying her eyes, she watched the guests' arrival from the parlor front window. She'd retreated here to escape the soft words of sympathy that were beginning to grate on her nerves. Everyone was well-meaning, but nothing could soften the pain of the loss that cut so deeply through her. Cammy hadn't come out of her room yet today. Vonnie was even more worried about how she was going to get her through the funeral. Her mother and father had been so close.

“Vonnie?”

She turned from the window. “Yes, Mrs. Lincoln.”

“The preacher's here. Dear, Cammy hasn't come down yet. Should someone go see about her?”

Moving from the window, Vonnie dabbed at her moist eyes with a handkerchief. “I'll go. Tell Pastor Higgins I'll be with him in a few minutes. Has everyone had coffee?”

“Everyone's fine. You see to your mother. Is she doing all right?”

“Not so well, Mrs. Lincoln. She and Daddy were—”

“I know, dear.” Eugenia Lincoln and Cammy had been neighbors for years. Mrs. Lincoln had lost her own husband five years earlier. “It will take time, but one day she'll begin to take up her life again. Oh, the pain will still be there, but it will lessen. One day she'll begin to remember the good things about her life with Teague.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Lincoln.” Vonnie smiled, dabbing at her eyes. “She'll need your friendship.”

“She'll have it.” Eugenia said, patting Vonnie's arm.

A moment later, Vonnie knocked lightly on her mother's door. When there was no response, she opened the door gently.

“Mother?”

The shades were drawn down tight. It took a moment for Vonnie's eyes to adjust, then she saw her mother half-reclining on a fainting couch in the corner.

“Mother, the service will begin in half an hour.”

Cammy hadn't dressed yet. Her hair hung in a tangled mat over her shoulders. She looked as if she had aged twenty years in the past twenty-four hours.

“Pastor Higgins is here, and all our neighbors and friends. You should come downstairs.”

“I can't…I can't go through this.”

Vonnie knelt beside the couch, her fingers gently reaching to stroke her mother's trembling hand.

“You must, Momma. They've been so good to come, to offer their help and sympathy.”

Cammy turned lifeless eyes on her. “What good will words do? Teague is gone. Nothing will ever be the same again.”

“I know you feel that way now, Momma, but you can't hide up here for the rest of your life. As painful as this is, we have to face it, together.”

“I can't be with those people. Not now—please, leave me be.” Vonnie's patience was stretched to the breaking point.

“Momma, Daddy wouldn't want you to behave like this. He'd want you to be strong, to trust God. You know Daddy trusted without question. He'd expect us to do the same.”

Cammy covered her eyes with her hand and held a sodden handkerchief to her trembling lips. “He shouldn't have left me.”

“He didn't have a choice. He didn't want to die, Momma!” She took Cammy's hand, holding tightly. “God will give us the strength needed.”

Cammy began to sob, and Vonnie was sorry she'd been sharp with her. She had spent most of her life with Teague Taylor, and part of her was gone. She had every
right to grieve. Vonnie had been a gift from God. Cammy believed she would never have a child. Then one afternoon she had stumbled across a dying woman. A dying woman who had given her a child. Her parents had doted on her. The three had become nearly inseparable. Vonnie understood that her mother would grieve deeply, but this retreating to her room, to inside herself, distressed her.

“I'll help you get dressed. What about the blue? Daddy loved the blue dress on you.”

Vonnie began to search through the armoire for the new dress she'd made her mother in the spring. “I sewed it special for Easter, remember? And Daddy commented on how nice you looked in it.”

“Vonnie—”

“Try, Momma. The burial is in thirty minutes. You've got to be there.” She took a deep breath, fighting back tears. “For me.”

Resigned, Cammy got up, visibly weak from not eating.

She managed to get dressed and brush her hair into a semblance of order. She leaned heavily on Vonnie's arm as they descended the stairs. Mrs. Lincoln was in the foyer and saw them first.

“Cammy,” she murmured, stepping forward to meet them. “Teague would say you look like a bluebonnet in the summer.”

“Oh, Eugenia.” Cammy broke down, walking into her friend's arms.

Vonnie let Mrs. Lincoln take charge of her mother, watching them go into the large parlor together. Murmurs of condolences floated out to her as Vonnie retreated outside.

The sun was shining, a light breeze. She lifted her eyes to the heavens and whispered, “You're going to have to help us get through this. I know Daddy's there with You, but this is so hard for us.” A peace filled her and for a moment she imagined that she felt Teague's firm hand on her shoulder, urging her on.

Moving toward the family cemetery, which Teague had prepared in a grove of birch trees about a hundred yards from the house, she gathered her fortitude around her like a shroud. Teague's parents were buried here. They'd lived with Cammy and Teague until their deaths, when Vonnie was three. And Great-Aunt Alice and Uncle Sill were here. Vonnie pushed open the gate, pausing momentarily as the gaping hole in the ground where her father would be laid to rest jarred her senses. The ranch hands had been busy this morning.

Tears sprang to her eyes. She sagged against the gate as the enormity of the past twenty-four hours hit her.

She clung to the weathered boards, her lips moving in silent prayer. Now, as never before, she realized the comfort of being a child of God. How could anyone go through life without the love and strength that only He could give?

She remained at the grave site, grieving alone. When she started back to the house, the funeral party was already spilling out onto the lawn, parting to stand aside
as six pallbearers carried the freshly planed pine casket toward the cemetery. Cammy, still firmly in Mrs. Lincoln's control, followed her husband's body, a linen handkerchief to her eyes. Vonnie watched the strangely quiet procession make its way across the wide lawn.

Ed Hogan had come. Teague had bought feed from him for years. The Newton sisters were there because they were simply good neighbors. Cammy had taken a kettle of chicken soup to the sisters when one had come down with pneumonia last year. Teague had gone with her and cut a cord of firewood when he noticed their supply was running low.

There was Pastor Higgins, and his wife Pearl, and Franz and frail Audrey. Hildy Addison, Mora and Carolyn were there having arrived last night to be with her.

And then there were the Baldwins. They'd come as a matter of courtesy rather than friendship. It would have looked impolite if they'd been missing, since most of the town had seen fit to pay their condolences.

The five men stood well back from the group now circling the casket. Andrew, two years younger than Adam, had disliked Teague intensely. Vonnie knew he'd had a crush on her since school, but he'd detested her father. They'd been in the same class throughout their childhood. He and Adam had even fought over her once when they thought P.K. wasn't looking.

Her eyes slipped to the woman who was standing beside Adam.
She
should be standing by him, not Beth. He should be by
her
side, to console her, to hold her, to
love her…. Her thoughts stopped short. Beth was one of the nicest women around—kind, even tempered. Vonnie couldn't find it in her heart to resent Beth's place beside Adam.

“Dear friends,” Pastor Higgins began as the assemblage gathered closer to the open grave.

Vonnie moved to one side of Cammy as Mrs. Lincoln closed in on the other. Cammy clung to Vonnie's arm like a lost child.

“We are gathered here today to say goodbye to a loyal friend, a loving husband and father, a good neighbor—”

Andrew Baldwin held his hat in both hands, his eyes lowered. He studied his feet and the casket, but Vonnie could feel his frequent glances.

“—and we know that one day we will see our friend again and we will then rejoice together. Let us pray. Our Father…”

Bowing her head, Vonnie watched Adam standing beside Beth through brimming eyes. P.K., Andrew, Pat and Joey stood nearby. P.K., like her father, was a pillar of the community. The men had more in common than just being neighbors. They were two of a kind, the breed of man who had carved a place for families in this vast land, who proved that perseverance and providence, yoked by sweat and ingenuity, could build a good life.

Alike in spirit, they were alike in appearance as well—tall, rangy, broad shouldered, faces weathered, near the same age.

She studied Adam, her eyes blurred with pain and
tears, praying to block out the sight of the man she loved. The warm sun brought out the blond highlights in his brown hair. If she had been taking inventory, she could have noted that he'd not bothered to get a haircut in several weeks. His hair had a tendency to curl when he let it grow, and now it was waving against the collar of a blue shirt that matched his eyes.

Suddenly the memory of the boy she'd loved sprang up. At seventeen, Adam had been larger than most of the boys his age. He'd done the work of a grown man since he had been thirteen. Everyone knew that he and his brothers would one day inherit Cabeza Del Lobo.

The other boys accepted that. Each had his own duties. Andrew was in charge of the hired hands, while the others worked the horses and cattle. Vonnie had heard her father comment to Cammy that P.K. was staying closer to the house more and more these days. Stiffening of the joints, he'd said, made the days long for P.K. Whatever the differences between the two men, her father's notice of Adam's father had been genuine.

It would be natural, she'd thought, for the two men who were responsible for Amarillo turning into a thriving community to be friends, or at least business partners. But such was not the case. P.K. and Teague rarely looked in the same direction when forced to be in the same place at the same time, much less socialized.

Yet, she'd found no real reason for such hatred. Differences maybe, but Teague had tolerated differences with everyone
but
P.K.

“Amen.”

Pastor Higgins motioned Vonnie forward, and she carefully took a handful of dirt and sprinkled it on her father's coffin.

Oh, Daddy. What are we going to do without you?

The moment was so emotional she felt her defenses crumbling. Holding on to her mother's arm, she helped Cammy sprinkle dirt on the casket.

“I'll be stopping by in a day or two,” Pastor Higgins murmured as he grasped their hands a moment later. “My prayers are with you. Should you need anything, don't hesitate to send for me.”

Vonnie blinked back tears. “Thank you, Pastor. It was a lovely service.”

Suddenly she wished everyone was gone. She wanted to be alone, to cry and grieve with her mother.

One by one the mourners passed by, the women hugging first her mother then her, the men shuffling by uttering a few barely audible words.

Everyone had expressed their remorse when P.K. approached. For a moment he didn't say anything, just looked down at the ground. Eventually, he cleared his throat and met Vonnie's eyes.

He opened his mouth to speak, but words failed him. Reaching for Cammy's hand, he squeezed it briefly before moving on.

“I'm sorry, Vonnie,” Andrew said, taking her hand in his.

“It was kind of you to come, Andrew.”

“Vonnie,” Pat said. He seemed uncertain of what he should say when it was his turn.

“Thank you for coming, Pat.”

“You're welcome, ma'am…I'm real sorry for you and your mother.”

Ma'am.
The address made her sound so old.

Joey nodded and followed his brothers out the cemetery gate.

And then it was Adam's turn. Beth clung to his side, holding his arm protectively. Taking Vonnie's hand, he held it for a moment. The show of respect made her pain even more evident. “I'm sorry, Vonnie.”

She swallowed, overwhelmed with the impulse to lean against his broad chest and sob her heart out. She had realized her foolishness long ago. She should have respected their vows, stood up to Teague, but she hadn't. Now she had lost Adam forever.

“Thank you,” she managed.

His thumb moved lightly across her knuckles. He'd held her hand this way, his thumb brushing back and forth, the night they stood before an ill-prepared judge and were married.