"I guess she's right this time, too. I spent a lot of years trying to forget just about my whole life. I especially wanted to forget all the failures, the waste, the anger and bitterness, the times I wanted to kill Pa, or myself, and didn't have the guts. But the minute I heard about Hen, I knew I had to come."
"Did you ever try to find out what happened to us after the war?"
Leave it to George to find the one spot he didn't want exposed. Just like Fern, there were some things Madison didn't want to admit, even to himself. She had constructed walls all around her to keep out things she didn't want to see or know about, to support the world she had created for herself, to blind her to the things about herself she didn't want to know.
His walls might be less formidable, but they were walls just the same.
"Freddy's father has friends in Washington. It wasn't too difficult to have the army locate you."
"Then you were responsible for General Sheridan."
"No, but when your application for a pardon turned up--"
"How did you know about that?"
"Freddy's father."
"Then Grant didn't send the pardons."
"Yes, he did, but they might not have come so quickly."
"And Sheridan?"
"He was chasing bandits. It was easy for him stop by the ranch."
Madison remembered how anxiously he had waited for news. Teddy's family had been kinder and more generous than his own, but during those dark years he'd learned that no matter how unsatisfactory, no one could replace your own family. Just knowing they were alive made everything easier.
"And Hen?"
"The Kansas Pacific is one of our clients. They don't like anything that might disturb the flow of longhorns from Texas. Their trains go west loaded with goods, but they come back mostly empty. Your cattle are sometimes their margin of profit. A war between the Texas drovers and the citizens of Abilene, a war which could easily be set off by the hanging of a member of one of Texas's most prominent families--"
"Good God, whoever called us that?"
"--is bad for the railroad. They notified us immediately."
"So you knew about Hen's arrest almost as soon as I did."
Madison nodded.
"Will you continue to keep up with us through the company reports after you go back to Boston?"
"I hope that won't be necessary."
"It won't, not if you really want to know."
"I do."
Surprising how difficult it was to say those two words. He felt like he was admitting to a weakness. It seemed to imply he was wrong when he left eight years ago.
"I'd do it over again," Madison said. "I couldn't have done anything else."
"I don't guess I'll ever understand, but I'll try."
"The twins never will."
"We're all learning to accept things we can't understand. Jeff has his arm. I have Pa."
"We all have Pa."
"But it's not so bad if we have each other."
Madison hoped it was true. The need for his father's love and approval was something he'd never admitted. There was no point in it. It was easier to admit he needed George's approval.
"Why did you name your son after him? I could have fallen over when I found out."
"I'll tell you some day."
"Why not now?"
"You're not ready."
That angered Madison. "What do you mean? Is there something special understanding that only people who live in Texas can appreciate?"
"No, it's something no man can appreciate unless he's laid down his weapons, called off all quarrels, and turned his attention to the things he never thought he'd be able to have. You're not there yet. There's too much anger inside. You're fighting too hard to understand."
Madison didn't like that answer, but he had enough innate honesty to know George was right. He was still fighting to prove he was right when he left the ranch.
"Do you mind if I ask what's in that box?" George asked.
Madison's mood changed abruptly. "Curiosity about to kill the cat?"
"It's not quite that bad," George said, smiling without embarrassment. "One of the drawbacks of being interested in everybody's welfare is being curious about their business as well."
"That shouldn't cause any problem with all of you living in the same house."
"You don't live with us."
A momentary shadow crossed Madison's face. "I don't think I want to tell you. It's a gamble, one that might not work out. I'm not too fond of advertising my failures."
"Want some advice?"
"No."
"Good. I'm not good with women."
"Who said it had anything to do with a woman?"
"No man can be married for five years and not learn to recognize a dress box," George said, amusement dancing in his eyes. "Either there's a woman involved, or you've taken up some very strange habits since you went to Boston."
Madison laughed aloud.
"I'd forgotten how you always seemed to know what was going on in my mind, even when I was most determined to keep it from you."
"Some things never change."
"But so much has."
"Things that matter don't. We just to learn to look at them differently."
Madison wasn't sure he understood that statement, but he didn't want to explore it at the moment. He had all he could do to explain to himself why he was taking that box back to Abilene.
Chapter Thirteen
"Have you thought about a dress for the party?" Rose asked Fern.
"No. I--"
"Madison did invite you, didn't he? He said he was going to, but men don't always remember things like parties. Not when they can inspect cattle yards or check out dusty trails."
"Yes, but--"
"For a terrible moment I thought I had put my foot in it." Rose gave Fern a searching look. "We could go shopping if you don't have anything at home you want to wear. Do they sell party dresses in Abilene?"
"I don't know. I never bought a dress."
"Never?" Rose said, her eyes widening in surprise.
"Not one," Fern said, a little defiantly. "I don't wear dresses."
"Did you tell Madison?"
"I told him I wouldn't go with him."
Rose's expression was inscrutable. "He told me he thought you would."
"Madison never listens to what he doesn't want to hear, especially if I'm the one saying it."
Silence.
"Will you go?"
Fern had made up her mind to refuse, several times in fact, but she heard herself say, "I might."
"But you can't without a dress."
So Rose wasn't any different from anyone else. Fern didn't know why she had expected she would be. She supposed it was because Rose was usually so understanding. Somehow she'd expected her to understand this as well.
"Why can't I? If it's okay for a man to wear pants, why not for a woman?"
"I know you and Madison have fallen into the habit of doing exactly the opposite of what the other wants," Rose said, rather impatiently, "but Mrs. McCoy's party is no place for personal squabbles, especially if it'll get everybody's back up. People go to a party to relax and enjoy themselves. If you can't enter into the spirit of things, you shouldn't go. Besides, you've already had the benefit of Madison's opinion on your attire."
"I've had his opinion on lots of things."
"Apparently you haven't been listening. Randolph men have many admirable qualities, but pliability isn't one of them."
"I'm not interested in bending him," Fern insisted.
"Good. I should dislike it if you were to engage his affections only to reject him in the end."
"Engage his affections! Me?"
Fern could hardly manage a coherent thought. How was it possible for anyone, but most particularly Rose, to think she was trying to make Madison fall in love with her? Even if she could, she wouldn't have tried. She didn't want to attract men. Not after that night.
"I've never attempted to engage Madison's
affections. Besides, if he insists I wear a dress, he can't really care about me."
"His wanting you to wear a dress could mean he cares a great deal."
"How?"
"Maybe he thinks a dress would bring out a part of you that's been locked away since you started wearing pants."
"Like what?"
"You'll have to ask him."
Fern felt a warm ball of excitement spinning in her abdomen. Madison must like her a little. He had kissed her. And he told her she was pretty. He said he'd keep telling her until she believed it. She hadn't dared let herself believe him. But if Rose said he liked her, it might be true.
But Fern had spent so many years telling herself she was homely she'd come to believe it. Now she was stunned by the intensity of her need to be admired. It gnawed at her gut like a physical hunger.
Piss and vinegar! You're just like Betty and all the others. In spite of your cussing and pants and sunburn and calloused hands and Spanish spurs and fancy cutting horse, you're nothing but a vain female.
She didn't care. She wanted Madison's eyes to light up when he looked at her. She wanted it so much she could feel the muscles knot in her stomach. But she didn't have the courage to accept his invitation to the party and find out. Rose might be wrong.
Dammit! She couldn't believe that after all these years she wanted to go to a party.
What could she hope to gain?
She hoped to gain Madison.
God help her, she must be crazy. She couldn't have fallen in love with him. She didn't want to be in love with anyone.
Oh my God, she did love him! She had been so busy arguing and threatening to hang Hen she hadn't noticed what was happening in her own heart.
A feeling of panic took hold of her. She got to her feet. She had to be alone.
"Are you all right?" Rose asked. "You look rather pale."
"I guess I'm not as well as I thought," Fern said.
"Why don't you lie down until lunch? I'll see no one disturbs you."
You're too late Fern thought to her self. Much too late.
* * * * *
"But I don't know how to dance," Fern protested.
"It's not necessary," Madison said. He still wouldn't accept her refusal.
"I can't dance, either," Rose said patting her stomach. "Too clumsy."
"You're as graceful as ever," George said.
"It's sweet of you to say so, dear, but I think I'll find a quiet corner and sit down."
"Why don't you let Madison teach you to dance?" George suggested to Fern.
"We can start now," Madison said, getting to his feet.
"I can play," Mrs. Abbott offered. Everyone looked at her in surprise. "But not very well," she quickly added.
"Nobody's going to teach me to dance," Fern said, the heat rising in her face. "I keep trying to tell you I'm not going. But even if I were, I wouldn't let you drag me around the room with everybody watching. I'd feel like an idiot."
They had fallen into the habit of lingering around the table after dinner to talk over the day's events. The dark, flowered wallpaper and the painted wood failed to provide much cheer, but it was better than the stiff formality of the parlor.
"Well, you two can argue it out between you while we're gone," Rose said, getting to her feet. "If I don't get started on my walk, I'll never get William Henry to bed on time."
"You can move to the parlor," Mrs. Abbott said. "I got to clear away the dishes."
They ended up on the porch watching Rose and George walk down the street arm and arm. William Henry ran ahead pointing at one thing after another and talking excitedly. But his parents were nearly oblivious to anyone except each other.
Fern had never known two people could be so much in love. It made her feel terribly alone. She wondered if Madison could feel that way about her. He was spending time with her, taking an interest in her, but there were times when she felt like a reclamation project.
She doubted it ever occurred to him she might have good reasons for behaving as she did. No more than he realized he was the only reason she would consider changing. And she wouldn't tell him. What a stupid thing it was to be in love, especially when there was no hope her love would be returned.
"We can start now," Madison was saying.
"Now?" she practically squeaked, jerked abruptly out of her thoughts.
"Sure. It's almost dark. No one will see us."
"If we were having a total eclipse, it wouldn't be dark enough for me to let you teach me to dance on Mrs. Abbott's front porch," Fern declared. "I grew up here. I know these people. They'd never let me hear the end of it."
"Then come sit down." Madison took her hand and pulled her toward a bench in deep shadow just big enough for two people.
"I'd rather stand. I've been sitting or lying down for days."
He pulled her down next to him. She thought of standing up again, but decided he'd only sit her down a second time. Better to let him have his way this once.
"I forget you're the active sort. You probably can't wait to get back on your horse."
Oddly enough Fern hadn't missed her horse.
"If Rose says it's okay, I'll take you for a ride tomorrow."
It made her sick the way her heart beat faster just because she was sitting next to him. She was even more dismayed by the excitement that coursed through her body, the tension that suddenly made her feel stiff and achy all over. She knew what that meant, and she hated it, but she couldn't stop it. It had been getting worse each day. The only cure was never to see Madison again.
But she couldn't do that.
"I can't go riding. What if Papa should see me?"
"I won't let him force you back to work if that's what you're worried about," Madison said.
Fern felt something inside her relax. He was still ready to stand between her and the rest of the world. He still cared.
She wasn't worried about going back to work. She didn't even mind it. But she was worried he wouldn't want to see her enough to come to the farm. She wanted to see him enough to stay here no matter how angry her father got.
"Why are you afraid of what people say about you?" Madison asked. "I get the feeling you won't feel comfortable until you've hidden yourself from view. You've developed a perfect camouflage. You look like something ordinary, but you're quite different."
"I'm nothing but a farmer's daughter."
She was finding it hard to concentrate. His arm was behind her, along the back of the bench. Their bodies were only a few inches apart. They seemed like the smallest inches in the world.
"Trying to look, act, and be treated like a farmer's son."
"What's so great about being a woman?" she demanded. "Men are always telling you where to go, what to do, what to say. They don't think you can do anything by yourself except cook, clean, and have babies. You don't even think I can pick out my own clothes."
"Is that all?"
"No, it's not," Fern said, trying to put a little distance between them as she turned to face him. "If you don't want to be the perfect young woman waiting patiently to become the perfect young wife, they try to turn you into a soiled dove, or something just as bad."
Her whole body shivered like the temperature had dropped fifty degrees. Memories of that night eight years ago flooded her mind. With fierce determination, she shoved them back into the dark corner where she kept them locked away.
"That's not it," Madison said. "You're no more afraid of the people in this town than I am. It's your father."
"No." Fern wanted to defend her father -- Madison blamed him unfairly -- but she couldn't tell him about that night.
"Rose told me what he said. If he ever lays a hand on you, I'll break both his arms," Madison swore.
"He wouldn't hurt me. He loves me," Fern insisted.
Madison moved closer. Not much, but it seemed like a lot.
"I doubt your father is capable of loving anything except his bank account. What would he do if you put on a dress and refused to d
o anything except the housework?"
"I can't afford to stay home, not with just two of us," Fern insisted, unwilling to admit, even to herself, the doubts in her heart.
"He could hire a couple of hands. Your herd brings in more than enough to pay the wages of two men like Reed and Pike."
Fern didn't know whether to be angry that Madison had been prying into her father's financial affairs or pleased he was so concerned about her. She decided to be pleased. That made everything different.
It allowed her to react to him purely as a woman.
That meant he was no longer her adversary but instead an object of limitless curiosity. She wanted to look at him, to absorb him through her eyes and ears. Though she didn't dare, she wanted to touch him. She wondered how it would feel to place her hand on the strong arm which had supported her on the long ride from the Connor homestead.
She looked at his face as if for the first time. She wondered how eyes that black could seem so alive, so full of fire. She wondered what he would look like when he wasn't so perfectly groomed, if his hair fell in his eyes, if he ever went unshaven.
She wondered if he ever got tired of being so independent, if he didn't occasionally long for someone to lean on. She wondered if Boston women expected their men to have the answers to everything. She wouldn't stop caring for a man just because he made a mistake.
Of course people like Madison never admitted to a mistake. That must be a terrible burden. He ought to have somebody with whom he could be himself, somebody who could love him for himself.
She wondered how just being around him could make her feel like somebody else. She didn't understand why everything she had tried to accomplish for so many years should suddenly prove to be the opposite of what she wanted. Most confusing of all, part of her wanted these changes so badly she didn't know if she could deny herself.
Whenever she was around Madison, she could feel her resistance eroding. And she didn't seem to have the energy or the inclination to build it up again. Slowly but surely he was tearing down her defenses, striping away her camouflage, exposing the soft inside she neither wanted to admit existed nor wanted anyone to see.
Fern snatched up the loose reins on her wandering thoughts. They embarrassed her. They even frightened her a little. She averted her gaze for fear Madison could see her thoughts in her eyes.
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