At first the house sounded quiet, but as she stepped over the simple carpet on the floor, she heard men’s voices coming from the kitchen. Pulse hammering, she moved toward the room with some measure of stealth, freezing when Winn’s voice touched her ears.
“—only reason,” he said.
Hoss’s lower, brusquer voice replied, “And what’s wrong with stability? You’ve obviously offered her none.”
Gentry’s face heated until she was sure her eyebrows would light on fire.
“Perhaps she would reevaluate if I made her an offer.”
She stopped breathing. Would he? But it didn’t matter. Her choice was made.
“Any offer you have to give is pointless,” Hoss said, reiterating Gentry’s thoughts. “She’s accepted me, and that’s the end of the story.”
Gentry shook her head. Were they really standing here, discussing her like she was some sort of fair prize?
She thought she heard Winn growl. “Have you even considered what she actually wants?”
“Have you considered what she actually needs, boy?”
Gentry’s pulse thudded against every inch of her body. She couldn’t believe—
Winn snorted. “Boy? At least I wouldn’t give her a minimum twenty years as a
widow—”
“Winn Maheux!” She rushed into the kitchen. Hoss stood at the far end of the table, gripping the back of a chair in both hands. Winn stood near the stove, his white sleeves rolled up to his elbows, arms crossed over his chest—arms that dropped the instant Gentry arrived. Both men’s eyes widened as their faces turned to her.
“How dare you!” Gentry hissed, her attention on Winn. The corners of her eyes burned. “What right do you—do either of you—have discussing me or my needs or my desires?”
He was trying to convince Hoss not to marry her, wasn’t he? Gentry’s fury extinguished in a great huff of breath. Why? Why can’t you understand?
She looked from Winn to Hoss to Winn. Hands and voice shaking, she said. “I can’t talk to either of you right now.”
She turned on her heel and charged out the door. One of the men called after her—maybe both? The storm rushing through her veins and the thudding of her feet warped the sounds. Rushing through the front door, which she’d left ajar, Gentry beelined to Bounder. Only once she’d topped the saddle—skirt barely covering her ankles—did she notice her brother standing to the side of the house. The men came to the front door, but she didn’t turn to see their expressions. To meet their eyes. Face and eyes burning, she kicked Bounder into a gallop and sped home faster than any enchanted seagull hoped to fly.
Pearl ran out from the garden as Gentry neared. Gentry dismounted so quickly she nearly twisted her ankle. Her hem caught on the saddle, and she yanked it free.
“What happened?” Pearl asked.
Gentry shook her head, wiping the back of her wrist across her eyes. A lump pressed against the walls of her throat. If she tried to explain now, she’d start crying, and she was so tired of crying. She was so tired of everything.
Pearl grasped Gentry’s elbow for a brief moment before taking Bounder’s reins and leading the mare back to the stable. A single seagull flew overhead, landing on the stable roof ahead of her.
Gentry gritted her teeth. “Don’t you dare let either of them in the house, Pearl.” She retreated into the shade of their small home. Her hands trembled, and her mind kept replaying the few sentences she’d heard exchanged over and over, inventing the missing pieces for better or for worse. Her head began to throb. She poured a cup of water and spilled some of it on her breast when she drank.
Hoss knew now. He’d sounded defensive, hadn’t he? Gentry wasn’t sure, given time to reflect. What else had Winn said to him? What if Hoss broke off the fledgling engagement? Gentry would never be able to look at him again. Then again, after the bank foreclosed on the land and the house, she wouldn’t have opportunity to.
Wincing, Gentry set down the cup and pressed her fingers into her stomach, trying to ease a sudden, stabbing pain there. She searched the cupboards, but of course there was little selection. She forced herself to gnaw on a crust of bread. The first swallow hurt, the second not as much.
What should I do? she wondered. Wait for Winn to leave and then explain herself to Hoss? Would Rooster say anything? And Winn! How dare he!
Her headache slid down to her chest, or maybe her bellyache climbed up, and Gentry collapsed into one of the kitchen chairs, ignoring the way it tilted, one leg shorter than the rest. Winn. Winn didn’t want her to marry Hoss. He’d gone there himself to talk him out of it. Part of Gentry embraced the heavy sort of glee that came with knowing Winn might really love her the way she loved—
“No,” she whispered, dropping her forehead to the table. She’d already considered this. She’s already decided. She was engaged to Hoss Howland.
A few gull cries brought her head off the table. Moments later the door opened and Pearl poked her head in, eyes bright but her mouth twisted, as though her features warred with one another. “I think Winn is—”
“I’m locking the door if he is.” Her voice came out like she had a head cold. Pearl frowned, hesitated, then stepped back outside.
A breeze blew in through the glassless window, carrying on it the cries of seagulls. The breeze settled, as did the birds. Gentry heard Winn’s voice, but she couldn’t pick out all of his words. Her stomach twisted and lodged high into her ribs. I can’t do this right now. I can’t do this.
“She doesn’t want to see you,” Pearl said. “She said she’ll lock the door.”
“And lock you out too?” Winn asked.
Gentry imagined Pearl shrugging. “I’m gardening.”
Standing so swiftly her chair nearly toppled over, Gentry hurried to the front door and locked it. Moments later, a knuckle wrapped on the door’s other side. “Gentry,” his voice was soft, “let me talk to you, please.”
“Just go.” The lump in her throat squeezed the words and pitched them high.
“Gentry,” he repeated, a little stronger. Gentry didn’t answer. She crossed the length of the small kitchen to where Pa’s ledger sat on a shelf. She opened it, the last several pages filled with her handwriting, not his.
Winn’s footsteps retreated, and Gentry folded in on herself as she clutched that damnable ledger.
What else am I to do? she thought, maybe prayed. Did that count as a prayer? Holding her breath against another ache in her abdomen, Gentry tossed the ledger back onto its shelf and rubbed the heels of her hands into her eyes.
“I knew I put this here for a reason.”
Gentry whirled at the sound of Winn’s voice, finding him leaning against the clay sill of the glassless window cut into the wall he had built.
The urge to wail pressed against Gentry’s teeth. She swallowed it. “You have no right to meddle with—”
“I have every right,” he interrupted, his voice annoyingly calm.
“Leave it to a man to say such a thing.” Gentry blinked back the threat of tears. “I can’t get by like you do, Winn. My family can’t get by. I can’t pay the mortgage. We can barely afford to keep Bounder—”
“Gentry.” He straightened, a piece of golden hair falling over one of his golden eyes. “I can help you. I want to help you. I want you to be able to lean on me—”
“Winn,” her voice sounded like a child’s, “you can’t even hold onto your own jewelry.”
He paused, reaching one hand to his ear. Both lobes only held one earring each; he hadn’t recovered the gold lost in the battle against the geyser. He couldn’t afford to replace them.
“So you’ll only marry for money?” he asked, quieter. “I dare you to tell me you love that man.”
“It doesn’t matter if I love him,” she said, but she wasn’t sure if the words were loud enough for him to hear.
“I’ve been trying, Gentry. I’ll take you back to California. Salt Lake City. Anywhere you want to go. I’ll rebuild every wall of
your house and exterminate every insect in your garden. Do you really think I couldn’t take care of you?”
“And Pearl?” An unshed tear blurred part of her vision. “And Rooster? They can’t live in a house of birds, Winn. They can’t drift across the continent like you do.”
“Then we’ll settle. We’ll build a house closer to Hannah, or—”
“Winn.” She shook her head. “Be honest with yourself. Are you really the type of person to settle? To stay in one place, to work the same job year after year?”
He didn’t answer right away, and in the ensuing silence, Gentry heard her heart crack like cold glass held to a flame.
“Let me in,” Winn pleaded. “Let me help you. Let me be there for you, and Pearl and Rooster. Gentry,” he leaned back on the sill, “don’t you trust me?”
The question danced around her ears like magic she couldn’t see. She had tried to put the pieces together in a way that worked. Of course she had tried. But they didn’t. No matter how she turned or forced them, they wouldn’t form the big picture. The one she needed.
Eyes cast to the rag rug, she murmured, “I can’t.”
A hush filled the house, unbroken even by the cry of a gull or the buzz of a fly. Gentry stared hard at the floor, nails digging into her palms again.
Silence, then the soft sound of shifting, of cotton pulling over clay as Winn stepped away from the window.
“Then we have nothing to discuss.” His voice wasn’t his own.
Gentry swallowed; the lump in her throat pushed back. A breeze filled the space. She looked up, but Winn and the seagulls were gone.
Vegetable broth and bread for supper again. Gentry started it early and leaned over the pot, stirring with a sluggish hand, watching little bits of overcooked carrots swirl through the steaming water. Her arm hurt from stirring, but she didn’t want those little bits to settle. Didn’t want to see her reflection across the top of the meager meal.
Rooster came inside from watering the horse. Sweat plastered his hair to his scalp despite the cooling evening. Gentry should draw a bath for him. Put herself to work hauling in the water. Heaven knew the crops needed an extra drink when he was done.
Pearl set the table. Gentry finally pulled away from the mesmerizing broth and filled bowls and sliced bread. It wasn’t sweet, like her ma used to make it, but it was good enough. They ate in relative silence, though Pearl did ask Rooster how his day went. Neither she nor Gentry mentioned Winn’s visit, and neither Gentry nor Rooster talked about the morning interruption at the Howland house.
Rooster took care of the dishes, and Gentry readied the pail to go to the well before it got too dark. A knock sounded at the door. Gentry stiffened. Pearl answered it.
“Evening, Miss Pearl,” Hoss said. “Hope I’m not visiting too late.”
Gentry clutched the pail.
“Just finishing supper.” Pearl fiddled with the doorknob. “I’ve got to study my arithmetic.”
“Is that so?” he said. “Think your sister’s got a minute?”
Pearl opened the door wider, revealing Hoss standing in the doorway, still in his soiled farm clothes, though he’d trimmed his beard. Pearl said, “He wants to talk to you,” as though Gentry hadn’t just heard him.
“I’ll get the water.” Rooster took—pried—the pail from Gentry’s hands. “Pearl, help me get it.”
Pearl frowned. “But you don’t need two—”
“My arm hurts.” He grasped her lightly by the back of her neck. “Excuse me, Hoss.”
Hoss nodded and stepped aside, letting the two youngest Abrams slip by.
Resisting the urge to wring her hands, pop her knuckles, anything, Gentry said, “Please, won’t you come in?” and lit one of the candles for better light. She set it on the table where Hoss sat—right where Pa used to sit. Gentry hesitated, wondering which chair to take, if she should take one at all. Her stomach gurgled, but at least it had food to satiate it this time.
She chose the chair to Hoss’s left. Smoothed her skirt. “I suppose I should apologize for this morning.”
“Ah, Gentry, don’t be saying that.” Hoss slipped off his hat and set it on the table in front of him. It didn’t look as worn as Gentry remembered; perhaps it was new. “I came here to apologize to you. Haven’t felt right all day.”
Gentry’s eyes flickered from the hat to the tabletop to the candleholder. “I didn’t exactly knock.”
“You don’t need to.”
A moment of quiet fell, but Gentry couldn’t tolerate another silence, not today.
“Then I’ll apologize on Winn’s behalf.” She watched light flicker off the brass candleholder. “He’s just a friend of ours.” Who I might not see again. “A recent friend, almost more of an acquaintance.” Who’s done more for me than anyone out here, but life has never been fair, has it?
Hoss nodded. “I met him in American Fork.”
Gentry licked her lips. “I suppose you know about Pa.”
He sighed. “I do. Winn told me, and Rooster confirmed. I didn’t know, Gentry. I’m awful sorry for you.”
Gentry merely shrugged. “It does put us in a predicament. I-I don’t know exactly what Winn told you, but it’s not as bad as all that.”
“Gentry,” Hoss reached his hand toward her on the table, but both hers were in her lap, “I know I’m not certain things. I’m not as young as I once was, maybe not the handsomest fellow around—”
“Hoss—”
“Now hear me out,” he insisted. “I’m not a lot of things, but God knows I try. I wasn’t raised on a silver spoon; I know how these things work out. I know a woman needs stability, especially out here.”
Gentry’s gaze flicked to Hoss, who stared at the table as he spoke.
“What I’m saying,” he went on, “is I’m not certain things, but I work hard. Came out here with the pioneers and started this farm all on my own, got the right licenses and such. Not that you need to be caring about licenses. Don’t matter what that fellow said, whatever the reason for you accepting me. Heck, wasn’t much of a proposal, was it?”
Gentry’s lips quirked. “I suppose not.”
“I’ll work hard for you, promise I will.” He finally met her eyes. “I still mean to marry you if you still mean to marry me. I just,” he paused, “I know fondness when I see it. I know it in you and in that Winn fellow. I just need your word that I won’t have to be competing, is all.”
Gentry nodded. “I already—”
“I want you to think about it a bit,” Hoss cut in. “I’ve got a sister, maybe I mentioned her before. A little like you, in a way. Only reason I know a thing about women.” He chuckled, but the mirth died quickly. “I want you to think on it.”
The muscles in her jaw ached. She answered Hoss with only a nod.
“Well, that’s that, then.” He hesitated. “Before I go, you mind playing a number for me?”
A few of her nerves dissipated. “On the fiddle?”
“Right. I’d love a song to see me off.”
Gentry’s heart had little music in it, but she retrieved the pinewood case and slid the fiddle from it, unable to deny such a simple request from a man so willing to tolerate her and her woes. She tuned it carefully and asked, “Any requests?”
Hoss shrugged. “Anything, really. I’m not savvy with song titles. Never studied music, myself.”
Chewing her lip, Gentry’s head spun through a list of songs. The names of the cheery ones wouldn’t stick, so she chose “Believe Me, If All Those Endearing Young Charms.” She played it through twice on the fiddle, drawing out its long notes, closing her eyes and trying to imagine herself somewhere else.
For some reason, the song only filled her with regret.
Rooster got paid, and the cupboards became a little fuller. The new potatoes were coming in well, and one tomato plant had survived, though it was no higher than Gentry’s knee. Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, and not one seagull touched the sky over Dry Creek. Friday, Saturday, Sunday, and Gent
ry knew Winn had likely gone for good, whisked away to wherever his magic took him. She would never have a chance to apologize, to take back her hard words, or to ponder the what if of that past decision. She tried to console herself with what had brought her to this path in the first place: the facts. Winn couldn’t provide for her and her family. He couldn’t. Not the way things were now. And even if Winn conjured some astounding job and appeared at her side right now to marry her, how could Gentry be happy, tying him down? A man with an occupation couldn’t fly away on the wings of seagulls, couldn’t cast spells under the watch of his colleagues, and couldn’t rush off at a moment’s notice to calm the quaking earth, righting the wrongs brought on by greed and gold. Gentry would rather never see Winn again than lead him down the same broken path her parents had taken.
Of course, she didn’t have the luxury of choice anymore. What she did have was a positive answer for Hoss—one she had, thus far, neglected to tell him. She was waiting for the right moment—the moment where her stomach stopped twisting, the moment when her heart changed, or, maybe, the moment her mind suddenly forgot about a golden man and his birds.
She glanced outside, touching the locket around her neck. No wild magic looming in the yard today. If she gave one of the ghostly creatures enough gold, would it eat her thoughts for her, leaving her in an ignorant and blissful stupor?
Shaking such thoughts from her head, Gentry tried to focus on the day’s chores. Just a little more time, then she would go to Hoss. Find a way to connect the yes in her head to a yes on her tongue. A little more time. God could grant her that much, couldn’t he?
But there wasn’t much time to be had. Pearl rode Bounder in from the mercantile and handed Gentry the letters. The first, of course, was a notice from the bank with a typed receipt of how much they owed on the land and the extra debt they’d accrue if payment wasn’t made. Despite the long summer days, time certainly seemed to shrink.
The second letter, however, was from Hannah. Forgetting the bill for a moment, Gentry tore it open, her spirit instantly lifted by the smooth lines of her dear friend’s handwriting.
Veins of Gold Page 20
