Читать книгу Yellow Rose Bride - Lori Copeland - Страница 13

Mourners 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 Cammy had withdrawn into herself.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.

For a moment she swayed lightly against him, overcome by emotion. Her forehead rested against his chest, her eyes closed. She felt his need to put his arms around her, to hold her, but he didn’t. What had been between them was over. The love they’d once shared was nothing but a nice memory.

When Adam had begun courting Beth, Vonnie knew P.K. was pleased. Beth was the kind of woman P.K. appreciated, one who was agreeable. Nothing ever upset her. She was flexible; she adjusted. Whatever Adam wanted, Beth was willing to accommodate. She would be the ideal wife, and her father owned land P.K. had wanted for years.

When it was apparent she’d lingered too long, Vonnie straightened, color flooding her cheeks. How could she have weakened like that, leaning on Adam and making a spectacle of herself? Beth would think her shamelessly forward.

Always thoughtful and good-hearted, Beth was the first to the bedside of a sick person, the first to lend a hand at church with any event. True, sometimes Beth’s giving nature could get on her nerves, but Vonnie was honest enough to realize the differences in their personalities. If she was serious about serving God maybe she should try to be more like Beth.

Quickly regaining her composure, she dropped her hand to her side. “Thank you, Adam. I appreciate your coming. I must admit I was surprised to see your father here.”

Adam’s eyes followed P.K. as he walked away from the grave site. “I wonder if he didn’t care more about Teague than he’s willing to admit.”

“If he did, then it’s too bad he never told him,” she said. “For all concerned.” Their eyes met briefly before he looked away.

“I’m so sorry about your father,” Beth said, slipping her hand into Vonnie’s. “If there’s anything I can do, you must let me know.”

“Thank you, Beth. Tell your mother I appreciate the chicken she sent over.”

“I’ll come by tomorrow and—well, we’ll all have a nice, long visit.” She tilted her head, smiling encouragingly. “Would you like that?”

“That’s kind of you. Mother is so upset. I’m not sure that she’ll be up to visiting. Mrs. Lincoln is going to stay with us a few days to help out, but I’d like your company. The house seems so empty without Daddy—”

She faltered, a lump forming in her throat. The realization that her father would never again come in the back door and call for Cammy hurt. Never again would he hug her and call her “Puddin’.” Never again would the aroma of his pipe float through the big house he’d helped build with his own hands.

It seemed so senseless, a man struck down before he could enjoy his declining years. A man who’d worked hard deserved to put his feet up by the fire for a few years at least, didn’t he?

As the crowd began to disperse, Beth moved Adam toward the Baylor buggy. Cammy was surrounded by several well-meaning matrons who went on about how sad it was that Cammy was “left alone” in her prime. In clucking, sympathetic voices, they invited her to join their quilting club on Thursday afternoons. It was little more than a gossip group, Vonnie knew, but it would be good for Cammy to be with friends.

Vonnie’s gaze moved over the mourners, most of whom were heading back to the house to eat lunch from the food brought in; all except the Baldwins. The five men had ridden away immediately after the ceremony.

It was evening by the time the farm quieted down. The house was so still that Vonnie couldn’t stand it. She decided to go check on the ostriches. Suki followed her outside and scampered around her feet, demanding attention, as she walked toward the pens that were built two hundred yards back from the house.

“Settle yourself,” Vonnie scolded the dog. “You’ll upset the birds acting like that.”

The ostriches were accustomed to Suki’s interruptions, but they were easily disturbed by anything out of the ordinary.

Ten pens stood in a row, with a pair of adult ostriches in each. The little “waddlebabies” were kept separate, each hatch together in a pen until they were big enough to begin pairing.

The most recent hatch was only a week old, but they were a handsome group. Vonnie liked watching them. They ran back and forth in the pen as if on a very important mission, their brown-gray feathers just covering bodies balanced on legs that looked far too thin to support egg-shaped abdomens and long, thin necks. Large eyes were as bright and curious as buttons; they split their time pecking at various bits on the ground and watching her approach.

“Hello, babies,” Vonnie crooned, counting the chicks to make sure they were all accounted for.

Some of the young ones came to the fence and peered up at her, a couple of them pecking at the woven wire fence in curiosity. She slowly walked around each pen, checking that no wires were loose or had slipped and that the edges were all anchored into the ground. The pen material had to be specially made with squares of wire, small enough to keep the adult ostriches from poking their heads through and choking, yet large enough so the little ones could get their heads out if they poked them through.

They weren’t the dumbest birds in the world. They just seemed like that sometimes. Curious, they’d try for anything that captured their attention, sometimes getting their heads hung in the fence. More than once, Teague had lost his hat to the lively birds.

If frightened, they’d run pell-mell into the end of the fence, breaking wings, necks or legs in their hasty flight. And they were temperamental. Like humans, some were gentle and some had a temper. Some could be handled and petted; others didn’t want to be touched at all.

They could be persuaded to move to another area, not herded there. An adult ostrich could run like the wind, reaching unbelievable speeds. A man on a fast horse would have difficulty catching one, once it got going.

Tears brightened her eyes. But, oh, how her father had loved these funny-looking creatures. Did they miss the sound of his voice, the gentle touch of his hand?

Suddenly Vonnie detected a shadow from the corner of her eye.

“Who’s there?”

She peered into the twilight, a frown creasing her forehead. Goose flesh raised on her arms.

“Who’s there?”

A figure stepped from behind a tall cactus at the edge of the pens.

“Andrew?” she said, relieved when she recognized him. “You frightened me.” A person could get himself shot creeping around the ostrich pens. The hands knew to shoot first and ask questions later.

“Sorry,” he said.

Andrew Baldwin was nearly as tall as Adam, with the same wavy brown hair. He was the most serious of the four boys. He’d walked with a limp ever since she could remember, the result of a fall from the loft of the Baldwin barn. He had broken his leg, and the injury had never healed properly. Andrew was rumored to have read all the books in his father’s library, a feat P.K. himself had never accomplished.

“Just stopped by to see how you’re doing,” Andrew said, “and decided to take a look at the birds.”

“You gave me a bit of a start,” Vonnie admitted. “I’m surprised to see you out this late.”

“I wanted to talk to you at the cemetery today. But there were a lot of people around, and you were talking with Adam.”

“I’m glad you came.”

“Wanted you to know if there’s anything I can do to help—”

“Thank you, Andrew. I appreciate that.”

Andrew was the odd duck in the Baldwin group. Where Adam was most like his father, Andrew was broody and quiet. No one really knew what was going on in his mind.

The sound of a horse coming at a fast clip drew their attention. Vonnie identified the tall figure astride the big bay immediately.

“Looks like we have company,” she murmured, watching Adam dismount.

“Andrew.” Adam acknowledged his brother as he approached. “I didn’t expect to see you here.” His eyes swept Vonnie curiously.

“I wasn’t aware I needed your permission to be here,” Andrew returned.

Vonnie glanced from one brother to the other. A thread of tension ran between them, and she wondered why.

“Dad’s looking for you,” Adam said curtly.

“Is he now? He sent you to find me?”

“I don’t believe he thinks you’re over here.” Accusation colored Adam’s tone.

The two brothers stared at each other.

“Then I suppose I’ll go report in,” Andrew stated coldly.

“Thank you for coming by—” Vonnie’s words faltered as she watched him limp to where his tethered horse waited.

Swinging into the saddle, he looked back at her, then touched the brim of his hat briefly and a moment later disappeared into the thickening darkness.

Turning around, she gave Adam a perturbed look.