He nodded.
Obviously, Billy hadn't gone into detail about Clay's life and although Clay was sure, he would eventually get around to telling her, for now it was his secret.
Clay realized that he couldn't live on the past. Being here with Billy and Becca gave him a renewed sense of life. Perhaps there was someone…somewhere for him.
The wedding was tomorrow, and preparations like most of the cowboys in that area had never seen were taking place. Flowers were everywhere; beautiful seating arrangements were set up. Food was brought for miles around. It was to be the biggest wedding in Arizona, obviously.
The night before the wedding, Billy was standing on the porch looking out at the prairie and smiling.
"Tomorrow everything changes…" Billy said with a melancholy.
"For the better…" Clay inserted.
Billy turned to look at him. "Yeah, for the better. For all of us…"
"For all of us." Clay smiled.
~*~
Amy jumped from the wagon and ran toward the smoldering heaps of char. Smoke still billowed from the scene.
Like a nightmare coming to life, Amy stood transfixed.
She began walking about the property, stopping to pick up some remnant of memory in the ashes.
She spotted it, gleaming in the sunlight, and stooped to pick it up.
She had given the locket to Clay, with her picture in it. She clutched it to her heart. Tears ran down her cheeks now, at the memory. It was the last thing she ever gave him on that fateful day he had returned to tell her of his joining the army.
He had been in such a hurry, and their meeting was secret.
He took her in his arms and kissed her mindlessly for long drugging seconds. Her heart had pounded so hard when he told her.
"I'll come back for you Amy…"
"But why go at all…and to the north…?" She wailed miserably.
"I can't begin to explain how I feel about this war. My own two brothers have joined the south. I might have to fight them at any battle. All I can tell you is…I can't fight for slavery. I won't fight for it."
"But you don't have slaves, neither do I?" She protested.
"True, but the south does. And a lot of them are mistreated, right here, in our town. It isn't right, Amy. So I've got to fight. I've got to do what I think is right. Forgive me, I love you so, and hate to leave you."
"Then stay with me…," she cried tiptoeing to kiss his lips.
The kiss lingered in her mind. When Clay kissed her it wasn't just a kiss, it was a possession. It was like two souls coming together as one. She felt it, and despite everything she'd been raised to believe, nothing mattered but her love for Clay.
She clutched the locket in her hand tightly.
"Oh dear God….I still love him…" she cried miserably.
As her memories faded, the reality of the scene before her devastated her.
"My God…how could this happen?" She wailed as a tear rolled down her cheek unchecked.
She stood staring at the still smoking remains of the cabin and barn. She walked about the property, shaking her head and trying to find some sense to it.
Clay and Billy's place had been burnt out.
There was no sign of why? Or who?
An electrical storm might have caused it, she reasoned. However, hitting two buildings on one property this close together didn't seem likely. That ruled out an act of nature. The house fire couldn't have set the barn afire too; there was sparse grass between the two buildings.
Then she breathed in, and the stench of kerosene rose through the air. Startled by the scent, she refused the obvious conclusions and sought answers elsewhere.
There were no signs of Indians, no arrows in the char, no leavings of any kind.
She looked up to the sky, "Who would do this, God?"
A simple question that haunted her.
Southern sympathizers might have done this. And that thought stuck in her head the rest of the day as she headed her wagon back to town.
The hate that burned the place lived here, in her town. The thought that friends and neighbors could have done this made her throat go dry, her heart pound and mind race with names.
Hep Drummond came to mind. A staunch southerner, Hep would be capable of such a hateful act. As far as she knew, Hep and Clay had no dealings with each other. It didn't make sense. Could someone have hired Hep to do the dirty work? It was possible.
Still something niggled in the back of her mind, something she didn't want to put a name to. There were two men that openly despised Clay, one was George, her fiancé, and the other was her own father.
However, when George proposed, his animosity toward Clay seemed to have vanished. Perhaps because he thought him dead. On the other hand, perhaps time had mellowed between them.
To think her own father might have done this, to drive Clay away made her ill. Her stomach roiled with the possibilities. She couldn't dwell on it for it hurt her to think her father capable of such an act.
However, the only way to be sure was to listen carefully and not take a side on this. Somehow, someway, she would help Clay and Billy find the guilty party. If it were the last good thing she could do for Clay, she'd find out who was responsible and tell him.
Wrestling with her own feelings for Clay, she realized that the love they had shared was still deeply embedded in her heart. Love never dies! She would love Clay this side of forever, whether he knew it or not.
Pressured by her parents, she was promised to George. However, her loyalties would always lie with Clay. She knew that, and her only advantage was that no one else knew how she felt. Not even Clay.
~*~
Clay helped drive the three hundred head of cattle that Mr. Sanders gave Billy as a wedding present home.
The ranch was quiet and as Clay approached, he got a feeling up his back. Something wasn't right. As they neared the corral, he understood what was wrong. There in ashes lay his home, and barn. Nothing but a pile of charred wood and hint of smoke left to identify it.
Mr. Sander's men were nearly as distraught as Clay.
"Señor do you think it Indians?" Juan asked.
Clay dismounted slowly, his eyes scanning the horizon. He walked about the property stopping to look at several things along the way.
"No…it wasn't Indians." Clay mouth was tight with strain.
"Banditos?"
"No…"
"Then who would do such a thing?" Juan asked his face full of concern.
Clay let out a sigh, and looked out at the prairie. "I don't know who did it, but I do know who is responsible."
"Then we will ride with you, to settle this." Juan frowned.
"I have no proof Juan, and until I get it, there is no use. I thank you for your help. But I'll rebuild." Clay spoke with a newborn determination.
"Si…but Mr. Sanders wanted us to help you and your brother. What attacks you, attacks us. We are brethren." Juan stated.
Clay looked at the man with the determined jaw and the eyes that searched for answers. "It's an old war, Juan, and I guess it isn't over."
Clay shook himself visibly and strengthened his reserve.
"We will rebuild." Juan said clearly.
"We had the house looking so nice…" Clay muttered.
"Si…you have troubles, we have troubles." Juan smiled. "But together we will rebuild and it will be better than ever. Tomorrow we will start." Juan announced to his men. They all nodded their agreement.
Clay didn't know how to begin to thank this man for his support, nor Mr. Sanders. He'd never met anyone like them before.
The property had been fenced so they herded the cattle inside the fence and they camped out in front of the ruins.
"I'd rather Billy and Becca didn't see all of this." Clay muttered thickly, his heart heavy.
"When he sees the new house he will know…" Juan said quietly.
"Yeah, you are right…he will know."
"He is no longer a boy, but a man. It is good
for him to know these things. You should not try to carry everything, not anymore."
Clay glanced at Juan and a sad smile creased his lips. "You are right. He is a man now."
"Si…and Becca is a strong woman. Do not hide things from them. You are family now and you must be honest with each other. Together we can rebuild. And in the end you will prevail." Juan said, his glance encompassing Clay and the charred remains of their home.
"Forgive, forget, and go on?" Clay responded.
"Si…God forgives us our sins, we must forgive others." Juan said.
For now that weighed heavy on Clay. It wasn't that he couldn't rebuild. It wasn't that he was ruined. However, he wanted so much for Billy and Becca.
Chapter Eight
"You didn't?" Beatrice indrawn breath spoke for her. A woman of impeccable taste, stood non poised in front of her husband, her face ashen, and her hands trembling. "I wouldn't believe it, even of you?" She cried.
"Well you better believe it. It's the truth. I'll be rid of that man once and for all. I think he's got the message now."
She stared at her husband who had suddenly changed in her eyes. The fierce hate in his eyes transformed him. She didn't know this man. How had he gone from such a loving, caring father, to a man that would do anything to rid himself of Clay Reno? And why was there such a hatred for Clay? As far as she knew, Clay had never done anything personal to her husband or her.
She saw for the first time, the hate. True hate and it scared her.
A tear slipped down her cheek, as something died inside her. Pride held her turmoil still.
"The opportunity presented itself, yes. And no, I didn't personally do it. I had it taken care of. Discreetly of course." Martin's glance swept his wife with disdain. His voice wore confidence like a red flag, boldly. His arrogance now was non-stop, clothed in hypocrisy.
The strain of pretending happiness divided them now, as they stared each other down. Her stomach clenched, filled with a mixture of apprehension and fear. If he'd go this far to be rid of the man, what else was he capable of?
Over the years, they had become partners in a loveless marriage, with only one common bond, their daughter. Now the bond lay broken in front of her. He didn't love his daughter, he was obsessed with her. This knowledge scared her into a cold silence.
Deep down she knew Martin wasn't doing this for Amy. He was working out of pure hate for the man. A hate that made no sense to her.
She knew that it rubbed Martin the wrong way that Clay fought for the north, but there was something here that scared her even more.
She had long ago lost the man she married, and this monster had someone had taken his place. Married to a stranger, pure terror kept her quiet.
Beatrice had teased him endlessly that she married him for his money, his position, his intelligence, and his support. Hiding the fact, that deep down she had fell in love with him. After all, he had courted her endlessly, bringing her gifts of perfume, flowers, candies and expensive jewelry. Naturally flattered and impressed by his sophistication and manners, she let him court her for months before she ever agreed to marry him.
Martin in turn had married her for her sophisticated mannerisms, her poise, and her beauty, and he told everyone. It was flattering at the time, but now he no longer regarded her as the prize possession. Amy had become his silent possession. This fact scared Beatrice. To others they seemed the perfect couple.
Yet inside their marriage was a constant void, from the loss of their only son fifteen years ago. At eight years old, he had come down with small pox and died within a week.
At the death of her son, her beauty began to fail, and his position in the Boston society waned as his personality took on a more menacing character. They moved west hoping to recapture what they had somehow lost. They failed.
The façade they hid behind masked their marriage and fooled many.
Her husband did not lose easily. The only thing he would accomplish in the end was to drive Amy away from them both. Beatrice saw it clearly now.
He didn't hate Clay Reno; he hated what he stood for. What Martin hated was the love Amy shared with Clay.
The loss of their son divided them and made them over-protective of their only child, Amy. However, what drove him was to control his daughter, as he controlled his wife. He wanted Amy to worship him, adore him and mind him, the way she had once.
When Amy grew into a beautiful young woman with her own thoughts and dreams, things began to change. He sought to destroy her independence as he had Beatrice's. And Beatrice saw it. Somehow, she had to fight this demon.
It had been a long time coming.
Beatrice stood glaring at Martin. Unable to comprehend the depth to which her husband might go to be rid of this Clay Reno.
The only thing Beatrice knew for a fact was that Clay had loved their daughter. Something inside Beatrice recognized that. Now…deep down Beatrice almost rooted for Mr. Reno. For love was missing in her own marriage, and she knew how important that was. She had learned it the hard way.
She also knew that Amy struggled to give up on love.
"Martin, if she finds out, she'll never forgive you." Beatrice cried. "I'm not at all sure we are doing the right thing. She obviously thinks she's still in love with Clay. We could lose her!"
"She won't find out, Beatrice. Control yourself." Martin assured her, his smug smile penetrating his distraught wife. "I've done nothing wrong. I've done what any father would do under the circumstances. I'm protecting her from herself. He's a yank, and worse. He's not good enough for her."
"Are you his judge and jury?" She reasoned with him.
"His mother was a whore. I'd be willing to bet he wasn't even a Reno."
"We both came west at the same time. We settled here when there was nothing but a trader's village. How could you know such a thing as a fact?"
"Because I killed his father in a gunfight, and before he died, he said it aloud. He said he was Clay Reno's real father. A dying man doesn't lie, Beatrice."
"You killed him? Why?"
"He was cheating at cards." Martin mumbled.
"So you killed him. If Clay finds out he's liable to kill you." Beatrice cried out.
"Let him try. Others have." Martin laughed.
"Arson…is a crime, Martin." Beatrice cried out, her eyes refuted his innocence. "If they find out, you could be arrested."
"Get hold of yourself woman. They won't arrest me. I didn't do a thing. Now, Do you want her to marry George or not?" Martin turned on his wife almost violently, his face reddening with anger. "I thought we were in agreement on this. Am I wrong?"
"I think I've been wrong about a lot of things." Beatrice's eyes widened in fear.
Beatrice faltered for a moment, for the one thing she did love in this world was Amy. She could lose everything, but not Amy. Amy had become more precious to her as the years went by.
Her husband's intolerance of Clay Reno could destroy the precious bond that held her family together.
"You can't do this. Not like this. If she finds out she'll hate us and she'll never marry George." Beatrice sighed heavily. "I fear we've gone too far. Perhaps we should have left it alone and let them figure it out themselves."
"Don't be ridiculous, she's blinded by her own emotions. She doesn't know what's best for her." Martin's brows knitted and the frown he turned on Beatrice that morning was one she had never seen. It was the frown of a demon. "You'll keep quiet about this…or…"
"Or what?" Beatrice's eyes widened in fear.
Martin saw the fear in her eyes and turned away with a snide smile on his lips. "Just keep quiet, Beatrice. I'll drive Clay Reno out of this valley if I have to."
"Martin!" Beatrice gasped.
"Shut up! Don't you ever speak of this again." He warned her turning his fury on her like a bad storm gone wrong. "A month ago, you wanted this as much as I. Now that I've taken steps to see it happens, you weaken. No…you'll keep your mouth, or I'll kill Clay Reno, myself."
; Beatrice stared at the man she married. "I never saw it before. Never dreamed it possible. Why do you hate the man so? What has he done to you?"
"He's everything I don't like, rolled into one man. He's a Yankee for one. He's a dirt farmer for another. He's not good enough for Amy and you know that. With George she'll have everything she wants or needs…We'll never have to worry about her again. George will see to that."
"She'll have everything perhaps except love." Beatrice choked on her own words. "Why are you so set on her marrying George? I'm not sure she loves him."
"Love, you women all think about love…men don't."
Clenching his teeth, rage hardened his frown.
"What would you know of love, anyway?" Martin turned on her, his face screwed up like some demonic creature she'd never seen.
"Not much…not much at all." Beatrice began to walk away from him. Her shoulders slumped, her eyes were wet with tears, and her throat constricted.
"You married me for money, Beatrice. You made no secret of it. And I in turn married you for your looks, your sophistication. Well, you got it. You have everything you need or will ever need. But love? You don't know what the word means. We are good together because we are both selfish people. We were never in love. It's a miracle we even had children."
Beatrice grabbed her chest and moved to leave the room. Gasping for breath, she turned to look at the man she had married twenty-four years before.
Martin was still quite handsome, still a pillar of strength, but something new had been added that even Beatrice could not stomach. He'd never been a mean or cruel man, but somehow he'd changed, and she saw that change. Had it only happened now, or had it been there all along?
This wasn't the man she married. And the realization scared her witless. Beatrice faced the cruel fact that her husband had already crossed the line between a concerned father and a desperate man willing to do anything to control is daughter's future. Fear etched its way into Beatrice's heart.
Why did he insist that George was the right man?
This Side of Forever (Book Five of the Brides of the West Series) Page 6
