Scattered Petals

by Amanda Cabot

  “I . . .” He hesitated, then said, “Of course I have.”

  Priscilla looked at the man she loved, a man who was caught in a living nightmare. “I don’t think so. I believe you’re still clinging to your sins.” When he started to protest, Priscilla held up her hand, forestalling him. “I may be wrong, but it seems to me that the only way you’ll heal is to talk to Margaret and learn what happened. You probably should have done that when you were released from prison rather than writing a letter, but that can’t be undone. It’s time to face her and ask for her forgiveness so you can forgive yourself.”

  The way Zach clenched his fists told Priscilla he did not like the idea. “Margaret doesn’t want to see me.”

  He was clinging to the excuse like a frightened child to his mother’s hand. “That’s what Margaret said fifteen years ago. You’ve changed. She may have too. The only way you’ll know is to go to Haven.” Zach had said that Haven was in southeastern Texas, only a day’s journey from the Gulf of Mexico. Though it would take close to a week to get there, it was something he needed to do. Zach clenched and unclenched his fists as he stared out the window. Open his heart, Priscilla prayed. Let him heal. “You may be right,” he said at last. “I’ll leave tomorrow.”

  Thank you. Priscilla nodded briskly. “We’ll leave the day after tomorrow.”

  Though he’d started to stride across the room, the plural pronoun caught Zach’s attention, and he turned to stare at her. “We? You’re not going.”

  “Yes, I am. I’m your wife. If nothing else convinces Margaret that you’ve changed, the fact that you married me to protect my unborn child should be proof that you’re not the same Zach Webster who abandoned her half a lifetime ago.”

  Zach’s eyes narrowed, and Priscilla guessed he was searching for an argument to dissuade her. “It’ll be a long, hard ride.”

  She gave him a little smile. “Didn’t I tell you I wanted adventure in my life?”

  “Yes, but . . .”

  “I’m going.”

  19

  “Ready for dinner?”

  Priscilla nodded. The truth was, she was ready to get off Dancer and never mount another horse. It wasn’t Dancer’s fault. The mare was gentle and seemed as tireless as Zach. It was Priscilla herself who was the problem. Here they were on only the second day of what would be at least a five day journey to Haven, and she was exhausted.

  Traveling was far more grueling than she’d expected. It wasn’t merely the long hours in the saddle, although those took their toll on her body. Added to them was the difficulty of cooking over an open fire and the seemingly impossible challenge of finding a comfortable position to sleep when your bed was a blanket spread on the sun-baked ground. And then there was the sun itself. Texas in June was hotter than anything Priscilla had experienced. But, regardless of the hardships, she would not complain. Zach had tried to dissuade her, warning that the trip would not be easy, but Priscilla had ignored his advice. She’d sought adventure, and she had found it. If it was more difficult than she’d expected, that was her problem, not Zach’s.

  She looked around, wondering where Zach planned to stop. The hills and plains of Texas bore little resemblance to the groomed trails that had been her childhood haunts. There were more hazards here: the spines of the prickly pear cactus, poisonous snakes, the relentless sun. Yet, despite the rigors and the undeniable fatigue, Priscilla loved this land, which was as different from Ladreville as it was from Boston.

  The route Zach had chosen was farther south than the one the stagecoach had taken, the terrain dotted with more brush than trees, the towns smaller and farther apart. Though some might call it inhospitable, Priscilla found it beautiful. She simply wished for the opportunity to explore it at a more leisurely pace. A decidedly more leisurely pace.

  When she spotted a small stand of trees, she nodded, knowing that was Zach’s destination. “Indeed, I’m ready for dinner,” Priscilla said as she gave him a wry smile. “I’m afraid my stomach’s been growling for the better part of an hour.”

  He met her smile with a frown as he turned Charcoal toward the river and the welcoming grove of pecan trees. “You should have told me. We could have stopped earlier.”

  “But then we wouldn’t have found shade.” Since they’d left the Hill Country and its trees, they’d been traversing open plains. This was ideal land for farming and grazing, but the absence of anything resembling a forest meant that travelers were as sun-baked as the grass. Priscilla slid to the ground, thankful for the opportunity to stretch her legs as well as a chance to rest in the shade. “This is wonderful.”

  “The shade or being off the horse?”

  It was as if he’d read her mind. “Both,” she admitted.

  “We can slow our pace.”

  Priscilla reached for the sack of food that would become their noon meal. She had known Zach would offer to rest more often if he realized how tired she was. That was the reason she kept a smile fixed on her face. “I told you I wouldn’t hold you back, and I won’t. Besides, I’m anxious to see Haven.” That was no lie. As they’d ridden, Priscilla had found herself wondering about the town where Zach was born and raised and where—had it not been for one mistake—he would have spent his whole life. There was something poetic about the fact that they left for Zach’s birthplace the day after she’d received a letter from her attorney containing the proceeds from the sale of her parents’ home and her father’s medical practice. Priscilla’s past was settled; it was time to confront Zach’s. “What’s Haven like?”

  Zach leaned against one of the trees, stretching his legs in front of him, as he accepted the biscuit she’d split and filled with ham. “I can’t tell you what it’s like today, but fifteen years ago, it was a small town—maybe 150 people, most of them farmers. We had a school, a general store, and a church. That’s all.”

  The way Zach smiled told Priscilla his memories were happy ones. “The postmaster was also the town’s barber and lawman. When the blacksmith wasn’t shoeing horses or making barrel staves, he served as the mayor.” Zach gave Priscilla another smile, warming her heart and making her forget how tired and sore she was. “You may have noticed that I didn’t mention medical care.” She nodded. Trust Zach to realize that she, more than most people, would think about that. “Haven was so small it didn’t have a doctor, not even a midwife. Occasionally peddlers would come through, and folks would buy their remedies. Somehow, most of us survived.”

  Mama would have been appalled. She had insisted Papa give her a tincture of something whenever she felt the least bit ill. The thought of living without a physician would have made Priscilla’s mother swoon. Papa’s reaction would have differed. Though it might be seen as denigrating his own profession, he would have said that Haven’s survival despite the absence of a doctor only proved how strong humans were.

  “You liked living there.”

  Priscilla watched the play of emotions on Zach’s face. “Yes, I did.” He took a bite of the biscuit and chewed thoughtfully. After he’d swallowed, he said, “Part of me is eager to see Haven. The other part dreads the thought. What I do know is that, no matter what happens, it’s no longer my home. Ladreville is.”

  Priscilla nodded, realizing that she had said the same thing more than once. Though her childhood home held many happy memories, it was part of the past. Until the day she had received the money from its sale, she had had no firm plan, but that day everything became clear. Somehow she would convince Zach to let her help pay for the Lazy B. Even if he chose to end their marriage, she wanted him to have the home he longed for.

  Zach tossed a biscuit crumb onto the ground, grinning when two black birds squabbled over it. “I’d venture to say Haven is not much like Boston.”

  “That’s probably true,” Priscilla agreed. “I didn’t expect it to be. It’s not simply that Boston is so much larger. Texas is very different from the East. It’s younger, still taking shape. I think that’s one of the reasons I love living here. It’s exci
ting.”

  He gave her a wry smile. “An adventure.”

  “Yes.” Though the trip to Texas had taken turns Priscilla could never have envisioned, it had brought her what she had once sought: adventure.

  Reaching for another ham-filled biscuit, Zach asked, “What will you do when the adventure loses its appeal?”

  Priscilla blinked at the unexpected question. “What makes you think it will?”

  “It always does.” Zach’s eyes darkened, and she wondered whether he was thinking of the way his escape from Haven to the army had turned from exciting to terrifying, or whether it was something else—perhaps life in Ladreville or their marriage—that had disillusioned him. Priscilla hoped it wasn’t the latter.

  “You sound like Lawrence.”

  This time there was no question about his feelings. Zach’s lips twisted in annoyance, and when he tossed crumbs to the two birds, he practically hurled them. “What did he say?”

  Though she regretted having mentioned Lawrence’s name, since it appeared to have bothered Zach, Priscilla owed her husband an answer. “He said that he was thinking about leaving the Rangers.”

  Zach took a swig from his canteen, rising to refill it from the river. When he returned, his eyes had lost their warmth and were steely blue. “I’m not surprised.”

  “Really? I was.”

  “It’s difficult for a man to combine life as a Ranger with marriage.” The look he gave her made Priscilla think Zach was aware of Lawrence’s proposal. But how could he be? She had burned the Ranger’s letter the night she had received it, believing that the best course. There was no reason to trouble Zach when she had no desire to marry Lawrence, or so Priscilla had thought. But it appeared that her good intentions were unsuccessful, for the expression on Zach’s face said he knew of and had been disturbed by Lawrence’s declaration of love. Why did he care? Though she hated seeing pain reflecting from Zach’s eyes, Priscilla’s heart leapt at the thought that his feelings for her might be deeper than she’d believed. Was it possible that he loved her, even though she was not a true wife to him?

  Priscilla did not ask the question, reasoning that they were discussing Lawrence’s feelings, not Zach’s. “How did you know?”

  “That Lawrence wanted to marry you?” When Priscilla nodded, Zach shrugged. “I heard it in his voice whenever he spoke of you. A man can tell.”

  She wouldn’t lie. “He did ask me to marry him. Twice. Once when he visited and again in his letter.” Something that looked like doubt filled Zach’s eyes, causing Priscilla to add quickly, “I refused.”

  Zach plucked a strand of grass and studied it, as if it contained the answers to the mysteries of the universe. “You wouldn’t have had to wait the full six months. I would have given you an annulment right away,” he said softly, keeping his gaze fixed on the ground. “I still will, if that’s what you want.”

  “It’s not.” When Zach looked up, Priscilla shook her head vehemently. Perhaps the gesture would convince him if her words did not. “Lawrence is a good man, but he’s not the man God intended for me.”

  The furrows between Zach’s eyes disappeared. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.”

  Zach scanned the horizon, searching for a place to stop for the night. This would be their final rest before they reached Haven, and he wanted to make it as pleasant as possible for Priscilla. It was certain that the trip had not been easy for her. As Zach darted a glance at the woman who rode at his side, his heart swelled with admiration. She had not complained once, even though they’d maintained a pace that had to be difficult for her. He’d seen the way she walked gingerly, as if her muscles were sore, and yet she’d said not a word. To the contrary, when he had suggested they go more slowly, Priscilla had refused, and when he’d slackened the pace, thinking she would not notice, she’d told him there was no need.

  Zach smiled as he looked at the woman whose face was now lightly tanned. This was a far different woman from the one who’d ridden to the Bar C with the Ranger. That woman had been broken, defeated. This woman was strong and resilient, able to find humor in almost everything. No wonder her family had nicknamed her Sunny Cilla.

  Only one thing had not changed: her fear of men. Though he doubted she would bolt if he touched her, Zach was careful to keep a distance between them. Admittedly, the distance was less than it had once been, but it was still there, a buffer designed to comfort her. Though he longed to stroke her hair, to clasp her hand in his, to press his lips to hers, he did not. Even the slightest contact was dangerous, for it might cause Priscilla to retreat into her shell.

  The one exception had been the night she had interrupted his nightmare. That night she lay beside him, her arms wrapped around him, giving him her warmth. For a few moments when his tremors had subsided and the horror of the dream began to fade, they could have been any husband and wife, sharing a bed. But that was an illusion. Zach knew it had been Priscilla, the healer, not Priscilla, the woman, who had climbed into his bed, and so he had not dared to mention what had happened then. Thanks to Zeke Dunkler, Priscilla might never again view men as anything more than brutal animals. And that, he suspected, played a large role in her refusal of Lawrence Wood’s proposal. Zach could not regret that. Though he did not wish the Ranger ill, he knew Lawrence could not love Priscilla the way he did. No one could.

  Forcing those thoughts from his mind, Zach turned toward his wife. “As I recall, there’s a bend in the river in about half an hour.” Though it meant traveling a few extra miles, he’d kept their course near rivers, first the Medina, then the San Antonio, knowing that the water and the shade that frequently accompanied the water were essential for both horses and humans. “If it hasn’t changed, it would be a good place for us to stop.”

  Priscilla looked at the sky, measuring the sun’s height and calculating the time. “If you’re stopping early for me, there’s no need. I can keep riding.”

  “I know you can.” Zach knew better than to challenge her. His wife would not back down from anything she considered a challenge. “I thought you might like a chance to clean up a bit.” The little he knew about women included their need to look their best when meeting other women. Though she had asked few questions about Margaret, Zach was certain tomorrow’s encounter weighed almost as heavily on Priscilla as it did on him.

  Her smile confirmed his assumption. “Thank you. I’ve got some soap I’ve been saving, and I can use some extra time.” Priscilla touched her hair and made a moue. “I don’t want you to be ashamed of me.”

  “I could never be ashamed of you.” For as long as she was willing, this was his wife, the woman who filled his heart with admiration, not shame.

  Zach turned his eyes back to the road, scanning the road itself for obstacles, the sides for possible predators. He’d always done that. He suspected he always would. While his vigilance had not changed, other things had. No matter what happened in Haven, he could not regret that they’d made the journey. For the first time, he and Priscilla had been together almost constantly, and that time together had given him a chance to discover the depths of the woman he’d married. They’d spoken of family and friends, of dreams and disappointments, of surprises and sorrows. Even when they were silent, he’d uncovered new aspects of his wife. Zach knew he would remember these days for the rest of his life, for these were the days when he’d discovered how deeply he loved Priscilla and how much he wished she was truly his wife.

  He knew that wouldn’t happen. There were too many barriers to overcome before that particular dream became reality. It wasn’t simply what Zeke Dunkler had done to her. Zach knew there was also the hurdle—the huge hurdle—of his past with Margaret. Though he wished it were otherwise, he could not forget Priscilla’s face when he’d told her what had happened that night by the river. She’d looked at him as if he were no better than the bandits and had recoiled with horror. Zach couldn’t blame her. How could he, when he still blamed himself? If only he hadn’t drunk the whiskey. If only
he’d had more self-control. If only . . .

  Zach averted his head, fearing his expression would betray him. While one portion of his brain was on the alert for danger, the other continued to think about the two women in his life. Though Margaret was part of his past, he could not ignore her importance. She was what John Tallman had called “unfinished business.”

  There was no undoing the sins he had committed or the pain he had caused Margaret, though tomorrow, if God was with him, he might atone for them. Tomorrow Zach might be able to put his past behind him, and then perhaps the nightmares would end. Unfortunately, that would not help his future.

  No matter how much he loved her, no matter how much he longed for her, he could never make Priscilla his true wife. As wonderful as these days of traveling together had been, they had also provided constant torment. It had been difficult enough, riding next to her, sharing three meals a day, wanting to touch her. The days were bad; the nights were worse. Though he’d kept a decorous distance between their bed rolls, Zach could hear her breathing, and he lay awake, listening to the soft sounds she made. Each time Priscilla sighed, he remembered how wonderful it had felt to have her arms around him. As he closed his eyes, he recalled the comfort she had given him, and he ached, knowing that would not be repeated.

  Perhaps this was his punishment for that long-ago sin. Now that he was approaching Haven, prepared to ask forgiveness from the woman he had wronged, he had discovered what true love was. Zach loved his wife with every fiber of his being. He loved her; he would do anything for her, but he knew she would never love him. How could she when he was not worthy of her love? This sham of a marriage was all Zach would ever have.

  Priscilla knelt next to the river, hesitating only a moment before she dunked her head into the water. It was the first time she’d washed her hair anywhere other than at home, and it felt strange. Being outdoors was only part of the reason. What bothered Priscilla more was knowing that Zach could watch her perform such an intimate task. He wouldn’t, of course. He’d told her he would remain at their campsite, far enough away that he could not see her but close enough that he could come if she needed help. There was, he reminded her, always the threat of snakes and what many Texans considered more fearsome, a particularly ferocious animal called a javelina. The wild boar had been known to attack settlers without provocation. That prospect had been almost enough to dissuade Priscilla from washing her hair. Almost, but not enough.