Scattered Petals

by Amanda Cabot

  As the minister had promised, the parsonage was warm and dry, although devoid of embellishments. No rug covered the wooden floor, and the chairs were mismatched. Remembering the elegance of the French church, Priscilla was surprised by the almost Spartan environment of Père Tellier’s home.

  “Are Madame Samourin and the child all right?” The young pastor’s eyes sought Priscilla’s for confirmation.

  “Oh yes, Father. It was a difficult birth, but they’re both healthy, and Monsieur Samourin is proud as can be.”

  Père Tellier bowed his head. “Thank you, Lord, for bringing us a new soul, and thank you for leading Mrs. Webster to us. The town is blessed to have her.”

  “It is I who am blessed to be here,” Priscilla said when the pastor had completed his prayer. “I didn’t expect it, but I feel more at home in Ladreville than I ever did in Boston. I have friends here, and helping Granny Menger is very fulfilling. My life would be perfect if only . . .” Rather than complete her sentence, Priscilla picked up her cup.

  When her words trailed off, Père Tellier prompted her. “If only what?”

  She hadn’t meant to speak of Isabelle and Gunther, and yet she couldn’t stop now. “If only the town weren’t so divided.”

  He nodded. “I assume you’re speaking of Mademoiselle Rousseau and Herr Lehman.”

  “Yes.” Priscilla took another sip of the rich coffee. “I believe God means them to be together, but the town is keeping them apart.”

  Père Tellier chewed his pastry slowly, apparently lost in thought. “I know them both well. Isabelle, of course, is one of my parishioners, but I visit Gunther occasionally.” The pastor looked at Priscilla, his eyes twinkling. Before he spoke again, he glanced down at the plate of pastries. “Madame LeBrun has already warned me that she will stop baking if he leaves Ladreville. She claims no one else could mill flour as well as he.”

  Priscilla smiled. Though she doubted the pastor’s housekeeper would follow through on her threat, it was a positive sign that not all the French townspeople were opposed to Gunther. “Then we both have reasons for wanting him to stay. Gunther’s a fine man, and he’d be a good husband to Isabelle if only he had a chance. Oh, Father, isn’t there something you can do?”

  He was silent for a long moment. “I doubt I would have much effect alone, but perhaps if Pastor Sempert and I joined forces, we could do something.” Père Tellier picked up his coffee cup, then placed it back on the saucer. “That’s it,” he said with a smile. “We’ll try.”

  Lawrence Wood tried to bite back his disappointment. He’d traveled every street in Ladreville, talking to residents and looking for clues, but there was no doubt about it. Jean-Michel Ladre was not here, and that was difficult to accept. Lawrence’s instincts were rarely wrong, and those instincts had told him a man like Jean-Michel would return to his home. By all accounts, the man who’d turned from petty thievery to murder was a man who liked his creature comforts. Lawrence’s lip curled as he thought of the places he’d tracked Jean-Michel. He certainly hadn’t had many comforts there, but everyone agreed he had been pampered here. That’s why it made sense that he would have returned. Unfortunately for Lawrence, it appeared that he had not. The trail, which had been absurdly easy to follow at the beginning, had ended twenty miles away. It was almost as if Jean-Michel had disappeared. Lawrence mounted his horse. People didn’t disappear. They simply went into hiding. That’s what Jean-Michel had done. The question was, where?

  A chill ran down Lawrence’s spine as he thought of the woman who lived on the opposite bank of the river. He gripped the reins, then forced himself to relax. Priscilla was not in danger, at least not from Jean-Michel. The man had never met her. Even if he was over there, he would have no reason to harm her. Besides, it made more sense for Jean-Michel to stay on this side of the river. After all, that’s where his parents and their nice, comfortable life were. Logic said that Lawrence’s quarry would be on this bank of the Medina. Lawrence trusted logic, just as he trusted his instincts. And yet, though he knew it was illogical, he could not dismiss his fear.

  A minute later, he was fording the river, heading for the Lazy B. He had to be certain Priscilla was safe.

  Zach! Zach was home! The thought ricocheted through Priscilla’s mind as she raced to the door. The sound of hoof-beats served as a siren song, drawing her outside to welcome her husband. She stepped onto the porch, her heart pounding with anticipation, her smile so wide she felt as if her face would split. It would be wonderful to see Zach again, to hear about his week and to tell him of hers. How grateful she was that the waiting was over! It had been less than a week, but it seemed that Zach had been gone far longer than that. And now he was home again.

  She squinted, anxious for her first glimpse of her husband, and as she did the elation that had buoyed her drained away. The approaching rider was the Ranger, not Zach. Numb with disappointment, Priscilla took a step forward to greet her visitor.

  “Good afternoon, Mrs. Webster.” As he dismounted, the Ranger doffed his hat. “I’m sorry for bothering you, but I wanted to assure myself that you were all right.”

  The words surprised Priscilla. Why would he think something was wrong? Had the Dunkler brothers come this way, after all? Surely not. It had been more than six months since Zeke had been killed. If they blamed her for their brother’s death, surely they would have sought revenge before now. There must be another reason the Ranger was here. Perhaps he’d heard that Zach was gone and was simply checking on her, the way a neighbor might.

  “I’m fine,” Priscilla said, “other than a bit lonely. You probably know Zach is riding the range.”

  As the lawman shook his head, his eyes moved quickly, looking around the ranch, searching for anything out of the ordinary. Priscilla had seen him do that on his previous visits. This must be part of being a Ranger, having to be constantly vigilant. Perhaps he’d grown tired of it and that was one of the reasons he was considering leaving the Rangers.

  “Might I trouble you for a glass of water?” he asked as he stepped onto the porch.

  “It’s no trouble at all.” But it was the first time he’d accepted any form of hospitality. Something was different today. Though there was no wind, she shivered and wished Zach were home. Forcing a polite smile onto her face, Priscilla nodded at the Ranger. “I have fresh buttermilk if you’d prefer that.”

  When she returned with the buttermilk and found him pacing the porch, Priscilla’s uneasiness grew. In the past, the Ranger had been calm, betraying no emotion and certainly not displaying any signs of anxiety. “Please have a seat.” She gestured toward the chair opposite her. Though it would be rude to tell him that his pacing made her nervous, she wanted it to cease.

  He sank into the chair and took a long swallow of milk, his eyes never leaving her face. Carefully placing the glass on the floor, he leaned forward. “I worry about you.”

  Priscilla tried to mask her surprise. Whatever she might have expected him to say, it was not that. “Why?”

  “I know what you endured last year. That was more than any woman should have to go through. I worry that, because of the Dunkler brothers, you’ve been cheated out of the life you deserve.”

  As the hair on the back of her neck began to rise, Priscilla sought a way to end the conversation. The Ranger was touching on things she did not want to discuss, but it wasn’t only his words that disturbed her. His eyes seemed unnaturally bright, as if he had a fever. Perhaps he was ill. Perhaps that was why he was saying such odd things. That would explain his asking for water. “I . . .”

  He held up a hand. “Please let me continue. I know why you married Zach. It’s my fault.” If it wouldn’t have been incredibly rude, Priscilla would have risen, putting an end to the Ranger’s visit. But she could not be rude. Her mother had impressed on her the need to be polite, particularly to visitors. The Ranger was not just a visitor. He was the person who’d saved her life.

  “You needed a man to protect you,” the Ranger continue
d. “I should have realized that and offered to marry you that day.”

  “Mr. Wood . . .” This time Priscilla did rise. Rude or not, she was going inside the house.

  “Call me Lawrence.”

  The emotion in his voice kept her from moving. She couldn’t be cruel to this man. “Lawrence.” The name sounded odd on her tongue. In her mind, he was simply The Ranger. “I wasn’t in any condition to marry anyone that day.” She hadn’t been ready to marry in January, either, but her pregnancy had left her no choice.

  “I know, but I hate the thought that I missed my chance.” The Ranger looked down at the porch floor, as if trying to compose himself. When he raised his eyes to meet hers, she saw the same brightness that had alarmed her earlier. “What I’m trying to say is that I love you, Priscilla. I always will.”

  He was ill. That was the only explanation. But as Priscilla recalled the number of times he’d visited when there had been no real reason for him to be in Ladreville, she wondered if the illness was one of the mind, not the body. He had confused love with another emotion, perhaps sympathy, more likely pity. Whatever it was, it was not love. No one could love her, not after what had happened. Oh, it was true that Zach cared for her, but that was because he was a kind man. He didn’t love her—not the way a man would love his wife. The dream that had turned into a nightmare reminded her of that on a regular basis. Zach did not love her.

  The Ranger didn’t, either. There had to be a way to make him understand that. Priscilla seized on the most obvious obstacle. “I’m married.”

  He nodded. “I’m painfully aware of that, but I don’t believe it’s a real marriage.” She blanched. How had he guessed that? She hadn’t told anyone that hers was a marriage in name only, and she doubted Zach had.

  The Ranger appeared unaware of her distress, for he continued. “I’m not saying it isn’t legal, but I don’t think your marriage is based on love.” Priscilla took a deep breath, relieved that he didn’t know the truth of her arrangement with Zach. “If you ever decide to end it, I would be honored if you would become my wife.”

  Priscilla rose and took a step toward the door. This conversation had gone beyond the bounds of propriety. There was no reason to continue it. “I’m sorry, but . . .”

  The Ranger rose and looked down at her, his blue eyes filled with pain. “I’m the one who’s sorry. I took you by surprise. There’s no need to answer now. Just know that if you ever need me, all you have to do is send for me.”

  As he mounted his horse, Priscilla gripped the porch railing, trying to calm herself. She wouldn’t send for Lawrence. Even if Zach asked for an annulment, Priscilla knew she would not wed again. There would never be anyone like Zach, a man who knew her deepest secrets and cared for her despite them, a man who’d captured her heart and shown her what love could be. Zach was the only husband she would ever have, the only one she would ever want.

  When she heard the horse, Priscilla shuddered. Since Lawrence’s visit yesterday, she’d been almost afraid to go outside. It was silly, of course, to be so skittish, but she couldn’t help it. The memory of the Ranger’s conversation haunted her. What had she done to make him think she would be interested in marrying him? She’d been polite, even friendly, each time he’d come to the ranch, but surely she hadn’t done anything to encourage him or to make him think she harbored tender feelings for him. And why would he think she would want to end her marriage? It was true she’d offered Zach an annulment, but that was for his sake, not hers. If Zach decided he wanted to be free when the six months were over, Priscilla knew she would leave Ladreville, but she would not remarry. Why, then, had the Ranger asked her to marry him? It made no sense. But it also made no sense to remain inside the house, cowering just because a horse was approaching.

  She stepped onto the porch, her fear disappearing as she realized that it was Zach who was only a few yards from the house. The smile she’d worn yesterday reappeared as she hurried down the stairs.

  “It’s good to be home.” Zach covered the short distance between them in three long strides, then stood there, smiling down at Priscilla. “I missed you.”

  “I missed you too. There’s so much to tell you.” She wanted to share everything that had happened while Zach had been gone, everything except the Ranger’s visit. “But first, were the cattle all right?”

  Zach climbed the stairs and opened the door for Priscilla. “I don’t know,” he said as they entered the house.

  Priscilla turned and stared at him. “What do you mean? I don’t understand.”

  Zach gave her a sheepish grin. “I wasn’t riding the range. I was looking for something for you.”

  “Me?” For the second time in as many days, Priscilla was at a loss for words. “What on earth were you looking for?” She led the way into the kitchen and sank onto one of the wooden chairs. Though the parlor was more comfortable, she knew Zach would not want to sit there until he’d bathed.

  “Something special.” His smile widened. “Does it surprise you that I want to give you a present?”

  “It’s not my birthday or Christmas.”

  “It wasn’t either of those the day I gave you flowers, but you seemed to like them anyway.”

  “I did.” She glanced toward the parlor where the china bowl with the dried petals sat. “I still do.”

  “I think you might like this even better.” Zach reached into a pocket and handed her a small paper-wrapped item. When she stared at it, trying to imagine what might be inside, he said, “Go ahead. Open it.”

  She unwrapped it carefully, then gasped. “My locket!” Somehow, somewhere he had found her locket. Tears of joy filled Priscilla’s eyes as she realized Zach had remembered the day when she’d wept over the loss of the necklace. Though another man might have dismissed her tears as female foolishness, Zach had done what he could to banish her sorrow. What a wonderful man she’d married. “Oh, Zach, where did you find it?”

  “Near New Braunfels.” He acted as if what he’d accomplished was trivial, that this was an ordinary present, not the restoration of something she had believed lost forever. Zach’s lips curved in another smile. “I figured the Dunkler brothers would sell it, and they did. The biggest problem was figuring out where.” Zach gestured toward his travel-stained clothing. “It took a bit longer than I’d hoped to find the man who’d bought the locket. He was saving it for his wife’s birthday, but when he heard my story, he agreed to sell it to me.”

  Priscilla fingered the locket that she held in one palm, then looked up at the man who had brought it to her. “Oh, Zach, I don’t know how to thank you. I never thought I’d see this again.” Though she was eager to clasp it around her neck, there was something far more important to do first. Priscilla slid her fingernail between the two halves.

  “Wait a minute.” Zach spoke quickly. “I know what you’re looking for, but the pictures are gone. The farmer said the locket was empty when he bought it. The bandits must have thrown the photographs away.” Zach’s eyes were serious as he said, “I’m sorry, Priscilla. I know how much you cherished them.”

  They were what had made the locket special, for they were her last link to her family. Priscilla stared at the necklace for a moment, preparing herself for the disappointment. Now that she knew the locket was empty, perhaps she should not open it. Nothing would be served by confirming Zach’s words, and the sight of the plain metal would only revive unhappy memories.

  Priscilla unhooked the chain, determined that once the locket was around her neck, it would never be removed. She reached behind her neck, but as she started to fasten the clasp, her hands refused to complete the simple task. No matter how painful it was, she needed to look inside. With trembling hands, Priscilla opened the delicate heart-shaped locket. As Zach had told her, the two halves that had once held her parents’ and her sister’s portraits were now nothing more than empty frames. But, though the locket was empty, Priscilla’s heart was not. Instead of the pain she’d expected, she felt only joy at the rea
lization of all Zach had done for her.

  “I’m sorry the pictures are gone,” he said again. “An empty locket doesn’t seem right.”

  Priscilla rose. “It won’t be empty for long.” A moment later, she returned from the parlor, the china bowl filled with dried flower petals in one hand. When Zach raised an eyebrow, Priscilla explained. “I’m going to put petals in place of the pictures.” She stirred the potpourri carefully before pulling out two of the larger pieces. As Zach watched, she slid them into the two halves of the locket, then closed it and clasped it around her neck. “It’s perfect,” she said, willing him to understand how much he had given her. “The locket was part of my past, but now it will be part of the present too. Don’t you see, Zach? It’s perfect that the gift from my parents should be filled with the first thing you gave me.”

  He appeared unconvinced, as if she made little sense. Priscilla smiled again as she said, “Thank you, Zach. There are no words to tell you how happy you’ve made me.” That was the problem. Mama had always said actions were more powerful than words. She needed to show Zach, not just tell him. Priscilla took a step closer, then bent to press a kiss on his cheek. But as her lips approached him, memories of the bandit’s rough skin and fetid breath assailed her.

  Priscilla jumped back with an anguished cry. “I can’t!”

  17

  It was Sunday. Jean-Michel kicked the ground in frustration when he heard the distant peal of bells. Somehow he’d lost track of the days, and now he’d have to wait another twenty-four hours. As unfortunate as the delay was, he couldn’t risk going into Ladreville on a Sunday. Nothing was predictable on Sunday, and that increased the chances of being seen. He couldn’t let that happen. He’d come too far and planned his revenge too carefully to do anything that would jeopardize his success.