Читать книгу Brides of the West: Josie's Wedding Dress / Last Minute Bride / Her Ideal Husband - Pamela Nissen - Страница 13

Chapter Four

“I’m not feeling well,” Mrs. Bright said to her daughter. “You and Ty go to church without me.”

Ty had just knocked on the door and was waiting for the women on the porch. He hadn’t expected to be going to Sunday services, but last night Mrs. Bright asked him to do the driving. The three of them had been having supper, another invitation from Mrs. Bright, when she’d asked the favor.

He didn’t want to step on Josie’s toes, so he’d looked at her for permission. She shrugged and said he could do whatever he liked. He liked going to church, so he’d accepted the invitation with a politeness that matched Josie’s. He’d been at the ranch for two weeks now, and they hadn’t exchanged a single sharp word. The place no longer looked neglected and Smoke had regained his fitness, but Ty was no closer to winning Josie’s forgiveness. If Mrs. Bright stayed home, the ride to town would be colder than January.

He might have backed out of the trip, but he had another reason for going to town. Wayne Cooper, an old friend and the owner of the livery stable, ran the May Day Maze. Ty needed to sign up for the race, and he wanted to hear about the competition. First, though, he had to get to town. He’d always been punctual, but prison had honed that tendency into nervousness. Being late to church made him uneasy, so he knocked again on the doorjamb. “Josie? Mrs. Bright? It’s getting late.”

Mrs. Bright called to him. “Josie’s on her way.”

Ty heard whispering, stepped back to the carriage and waited until Josie came out of the house alone. Her green dress made him wish he’d dressed up a little more. So did her prim hat and white gloves. When he offered to hand her into the carriage, she accepted as if he were a footman. He climbed up next to her and took the reins with Josie glaring at the road. “This wasn’t my idea,” she grumbled.

Hoping to ease the mood, he kept his voice light. “Mine neither, but I can’t say I mind.”

“I do.”

“It’s a pretty day.”

“It’s too warm.”

She’d disagree with whatever he said, so he said nothing. After a mile, he glanced at her profile. Her gaze had the stonelike quality he’d seen in the eyes of inmates with the longest sentences and the least amount of hope. He’d kept his distance from Josie out of respect, but now he wondered if he’d made a mistake. All that anger was simmering. A good stew got better with a time on the fire, but coffee burned and turned bitter.

Josie needed to empty her coffeepot, so to speak. If she couldn’t do it herself, Ty would do it for her. The worst thing about prison for Ty had been the helplessness. That’s why the Sunday services in the dining hall had appealed to him. His renewed faith had given him a sense of purpose. Josie had the ranch to fight for, but he had the feeling she really wanted to fight with him. If she needed a sparring partner, he’d be glad to oblige. He’d been a cocky kid. He could be an equally cocky man. “Give it up, Josie. If you want to yell at me, just do it.”

“Who says I want to yell?”

“I do.”

“Drop it, Ty. You don’t know me anymore.”

But he did… If there was one thing that got Josie fired up, it was women’s rights. He agreed—women were as capable as men—but he didn’t mind using politics to rile her. “Come on, Josie. Admit it. Running the ranch is too much for you.”

Her gaze slid in his direction. “Considering the winter, I’ve done just fine.”

“I guess. But it’s a big job for a woman.”

“It’s a big job for anyone.”

“But especially a woman,” he insisted. “Especially a single woman.”

Josie’s jaw tensed. “I’ll have you know, a single woman can manage as well as a man.”

“Maybe, but it’s not a woman’s place. Women are better suited to cooking and darning socks…picking flowers…reading silly poetry. They like stuff that doesn’t take a lot of thought.”

Josie glared at him. “Stop it.”

“Stop what?”

“You’re trying to make me mad.”

“Is it working?”

“Hardly.”

“Why not give it a try?”

“Because I don’t want to.” She turned her gaze back to the road, a sign she was finished with the conversation.

He’d have preferred a tongue lashing to her silence, but silence was what she gave him. It lasted all the way to the church, until he halted the mule in front of the steps leading to the wide porch. He came around the carriage and offered his hand.

She took it as if he were a distant cousin. “You’re welcome to join me, of course. I sit in the third row.”

“I remember.” The Bright family had occupied the third row as long as Ty had known them.

Josie turned and went up the three steps. Ty drove the carriage to the field where families left their rigs, then he walked back to the church and slipped inside. He saw Josie’s green hat and a space next to her, but he didn’t want to draw attention. Instead he slid into the back pew.

When the organist struck the opening chords of “A Mighty Fortress Is Our God,” Ty stood with the congregation. He’d sung the hymn in prison and liked it, but today it sounded all wrong. The voices should have been deep and male. Instead he heard the birdsong of Josie’s soprano and he remembered… The last time they’d been in this church had been the Wednesday before the wedding. Reverend Hall had told them what to expect during the ceremony, then he’d counseled them in God’s plan for marriage. He’d talked about wives respecting their husbands and husbands loving their wives. He’d also told Ty to put his dirty socks in the laundry and to bring his wife a gift now and then. He’d told Josie to laugh at Ty’s jokes, even the silly ones, and to appreciate his hard work.

Last, he’d said words Ty would never forget.

Don’t let the sun go down on your anger.

Josie had been angry with him for five years. All that time, her bitterness had been festering. If she’d smiled in the past two weeks, he couldn’t remember it. Bitterness did that to a person. Ty knew, because he’d felt its grip in prison. He’d been wrong to go after the Scudders, but the judge and jury had been harsh. Not until he’d forgiven everyone—the jury, himself, even God—had he found peace.

Josie needed that same surrender. With the hymn filling the church, Ty bowed his head and prayed. Please help her, Lord. She needs to forgive me as much as I need to be forgiven.

The ponderous hymn droned to a close. Ty usually appreciated the gravity of it, but today he felt burdened. The church felt too crowded, too full of goodness and hope, so he slipped out the door before the congregation sang the final “amen.” He couldn’t do anything for Josie except win the race, so he headed to the livery to see Wayne. Hungry for silence, he walked the long way instead of cutting through town. When he arrived at the livery barn, he felt steadier.

Wayne saw him first. “What can I do for you, sir?”

“Sir?” Ty laughed. “It’s me—”

“Ty Donner!” Wayne crossed the barn, shook Ty’s hand and clapped him on the back. The livery owner was as strong as ever, though his hair had signs of gray. “When’d you get out?”

“A few weeks ago.”

“It’s about time.” Wayne shook his head. “You paid a terrible price for shooting a horse thief. Do you need a place to stay? How about a job? How long are you staying, anyhow?”

Ty grinned. “You always did ask a lot of questions.”

“So answer ’em.”

“I’m working for the Brights, and I’m staying as long as it takes to help Josie get on her feet.”

Wayne’s expression sobered. “The Bright women have had a hard time, first Jeremiah and then Nate. Josie’s working herself to the bone.”

“That’s going to change,” Ty answered. “I’m working for them now. If I can win the Maze, Josie can restock and hire decent help.”

Wayne raised his brows. “The Maze, huh? What are you riding?”

“Smoke.”

“Well, how do you do!” the man exclaimed. “It’s going to be a glory of a horse race.”

“Where do I sign up?” Ty asked.

“Follow me.”

Wayne led him to the back room he used for an office, opened a ledger and wrote Ty’s name and the date. The race didn’t require an entry fee, which meant there would be a wide range of horses and riders. Ty craned his neck to see the list of names, but Wayne’s printing looked like chicken scratches. He gave up and asked, “Who all is riding?”

Wayne went down the list, describing every horse and rider. Ty recognized most of them, but two stood out. Grant Harper, an Englishman, bred Arabians in addition to running cattle. He’d be riding to win, and he had horses that could do it. The second name made Ty see red. Obie Jones had tossed his hat into the ring, but he hadn’t listed a horse.

“What’s Obie riding?” Ty asked.

“He said he was still sorting that out.”

The more information Ty had, the more prepared he’d be if Obie caused trouble. “Where’s he living these days?”

“Dyer’s Boardinghouse.”

Ty’s nose wrinkled. “Is it as bad I remember?”

“Worse.”

The Dyers were known for bad food, dirt and fleas. Ty would have been stuck there if he hadn’t hired on with Josie.

Wayne crossed his arms. “I hear you ran Obie off the Bright place.”

“That’s right.”

“I’m glad you did.” Wayne got a faraway look. “Winnie and I go way back. If Jeremiah hadn’t come back from the war, I’d have swept her off her feet.”

Ty knew the feeling. He’d do anything for Josie…anything at all. “If you hear talk about Obie, let me know.”

“Will do.” Wayne indicated a pot on a round stove. “Got coffee if you want it.”

“No, thanks.”

The men shook hands and Ty left the barn. He wanted to be back for the closing hymn, so he cut through town. The route took him past the Dyer place and he thought of Obie. The fool could make all the threats he wanted, but Ty intended to win the Maze.

As the church came into view, Ty walked faster. The service hadn’t let out, so he slipped through the door and into the back pew. He looked for Josie, but instead of her green hat, he saw an empty seat. It wasn’t like Josie to leave in the middle of a sermon. Worried, he went to look for her.

* * *

The coughing fit that drove Josie from church hadn’t been faked. She’d gotten a tickle in her throat the minute Reverend Hall read today’s scripture. Be ye angry, and sin not: let not the sun go down upon your wrath… She tried not to listen, but the minister had looked right at her from the start of his sermon.

We forgive because we’ve been forgiven.

He’d jumped all over the scriptures, and every word had hit like an arrow, especially the last one he’d quoted.

Let him whose slate is clean cast the first stone.

That’s when she started to cough. It was either cough or cry, and so she’d coughed enough to justify leaving and gone to the carriage. That’s where she was now…blissfully alone and angry enough to spit nails. The frustration had started when her mother forced her to ride alone with Ty. It increased when he tried to make her mad. She had gotten mad, but she didn’t want to show it. If her anger drained away, she’d be left with the hurt. She couldn’t stand the thought, but neither could she stand being angry. Determined to be done with it, she confessed to the sky. “I want to strangle Ty Donner!”

A male laugh—deep and satisfied—came from ten feet behind her. She’d know Ty’s voice anywhere, anytime. Furious, she faced him. “What’s so funny?”

“Us.”

“I’m not laughing.”

His eyes twinkled even brighter. “So yell instead. It’ll feel good.”

“No.” She hesitated. “Where have you been?”

“Signing up for the Maze.” He picked up a rock and offered it to her. “Want to throw it? You can pretend you’re aiming at me.”

“I don’t care about the rock.” But she did. She wanted to throw the rock as hard as she could, and Ty knew it. He knew her better than anyone, a truth that put a lump in her throat.

He touched her shoulder. “Josie—”

“Don’t touch me!”

When he lowered his hand, she started to cry. The gesture showed that he understood…and he cared. She saw the blue eyes that made her shiver, the jaw that jutted when he was being stubborn, but she didn’t see the man who left her to chase a bunch of horse thieves. She saw someone else…someone who’d learned to listen. She thought of all the nights the sun had gone down on her anger. Then she thought of the wedding dress and made a decision. Today she’d take the dress out of the wardrobe. She’d forgive Ty for hurting her, or she’d get rid of the dress that embodied her lost dreams.

Ty offered her a bandanna. She wiped her eyes, then said, “I want to go home.”

“Sure.”

He helped her into the carriage and off they rode. Josie remained silent, but her thoughts ran in circles. What would happen when she saw the dress? Would she hate Ty even more, or would she find peace? She didn’t know, but she resolved to find out. Today she’d examine her heart and maybe she’d know what to do.

The spring sun warmed her face as they bounced down the rut-filled road. She stole glances at Ty, noticing how the cuts from the fight with Obie had healed, but mostly she stared at the winding road. On occasion she sensed his gaze on her cheek. The carriage wheels usually squeaked, but today they rolled in silence. Ty must have greased them, a chore she’d ignored. She wanted to ignore him, but she couldn’t stop looking at his hands holding on to the reins, or his boots on the floorboard, slightly apart and worn from work. The silence thickened until they reached the front of the house. The instant he stopped the rig, she climbed down from the seat. Her petticoat caught on something sharp, tore but didn’t come loose. The tears she’d stifled threatened to break loose.

“Hold on,” Ty ordered. “Let me help.”

“I can do it.” She tugged on the petticoat, but it was caught on a spring. The harder she pulled, the more tightly it wedged.

Ty came to her side of the carriage, reached over the wheel and freed the cloth. Intending to politely thank him, she looked into his eyes. The courteous words melted on her tongue. Instead she finally yelled at him. “I can’t stand it! Why did you come back? Why do you do this to me!”

“I don’t mean to do anything.” He took her gloved hand in his. “I care about you, Josie. I always have—”

“Don’t say that!”

His fingers stroked hers. “This hardness between us has to stop, and it has to stop today. Check on your mom and then come to the barn.”

“Why?”

“You and I need to take a ride.”

“Where to?”

“Boulder Gorge…the place where I shot Brant Scudder. I want to forget it, but I can’t.”

Josie knew about memories that refused to be laid aside. She looked into Ty’s eyes, saw a plea and thought of the wedding dress. She’d intended to open the wardrobe immediately, but Ty deserved to be heard. “All right,” she said. “I’ll meet you at the barn.”

He climbed back into the carriage and snapped the reins. Sighing, she went into the house, told her mother she and Ty were taking a ride, then retreated to her room where she opened the wardrobe. Instead of retrieving her split skirt, she stared for a moment at the muslin package holding her wedding dress. She didn’t know which frightened her more—reliving old memories or making new ones on today’s ride. The dress could wait. The ride couldn’t, so she put on her riding clothes and went to meet Ty.