The Bride Wore Starlight

by Lizbeth Selvig

  “You’re lucky, cowboy,” she said. “You get to have cranky old me as a student. Not everyone is so fortunate.”

  “Dang right.”

  “Honestly, I’m sorry I’m so awful when I’m up there.”

  “You’re angry at your body. I get it.”

  She thought for a moment and surprise crawled across her face. “I am,” she said. “I really am. But why?”

  He shrugged. “Grief. Anger that your leg and your back and your face weren’t strong enough to survive the blows they took when the rest of you didn’t die. What’s wrong with them anyway?”

  Her eyes widened with the understanding. “It’s all true. I’ve always thought I was just angry at the universe.”

  “Hey. Sometimes that, too.”

  For a moment he thought she might weep, but her eyes only softened in acceptance. “Do you ever get over it?”

  He gathered the horse’s reins into a loop and rubbed his knuckles down the bright white stripe on the gelding’s face. “You get angry less and less often. Then one day you might watch a football game and see a player sprain his ankle and curl up in pain, and you want to punch him. Or you watch the Boston Marathon and think, I could do that but I’d beat my stump to a pulp, and you want to kick and punch someone or something else.”

  “Or you see a rodeo?” she asked gently.

  A flash of resentment burned through his chest. They’d promised not to bring up that subject. But he fought the irritation and, to his surprise, it disappeared.

  “I expect it might be the same.” he murmured against her temple. “Most of the time you’ll truly be fine. Just accept the anger when it comes, but then let it go. Letting it go is the secret. And you can do it, because you know it’s okay if it comes back. It’s not like you have to suppress it.”

  “You really did learn your lessons well.”

  “Still learning. C’mon, let’s get Muddy here back to the barn.”

  She scowled. “Who names a horse Muddy Waters anyway?”

  “A big blues fan. Here, want ’im?” He tried to hand her the reins.

  “I’ll let you.” She grasped his arm. “Can I just use you as my crutch again? The leg’s pretty rubbery.”

  His heart sank. This was the one area where she consistently reverted to her old, helpless self. She rode the horse, she groomed the horse for riding and turnout, but she barely touched him otherwise.

  “You’re starting to gel with him, I think.” He tried the subject in a roundabout way. “He’s got your number, too. For a five-year-old he’s so well trained that I think he knows how to meet you right where you’re at—he’s not difficult, but he needs your guidance.”

  “He’s a good lesson horse.”

  “Harper found you a good boy.”

  “He’ll make a great cow horse,” she agreed.

  No emotion. No feeling. This was not normal for a former rodeo queen, however long ago her reign had been. Those women, he knew firsthand, worshipped their horses—more than any man who might come along.

  “I thought Muddy was yours. Harper found him months ago as a surprise,” she said.

  “It was very nice of her, but it’s hard to pick out a horse for someone else.”

  Her voice remained sweet and calm; she didn’t snap at him for talking about the horse, but she didn’t engage in any meaningful way. Alec sighed.

  “C’mon,” she said. “Let’s get him back to his friends and go eat. Mia and Gabe are home again as of this morning, and I heard rumors there was going to be a chili feed—it’s Gabe’s favorite.”

  “I remember that,” Alec said. “He used to go nuts for the gross canned stuff when we had it in the mess. Nobody wanted to sit next to him because he’d beg their leftovers. But your family has been feeding me a lot recently. Am I overstaying my welcome?”

  “Hardly. You’re their new favorite. They want you to start bringing Rowan along so they can adopt this dog they hear me go on and on about, too.”

  “Just what they need. Another horse.”

  Muddy Waters let out a long snort and bobbed his head behind them as if he understood. In fact he simply knew he was headed back to the pasture, and with an eye full of mischievous light, he thrust his muzzle forward and nudged Joely’s shoulder, pushing her forward. Alec laughed but it died in his throat when Joely turned and scowled.

  “Knock it off, you dumb horse. You have space and four feet of your own. You don’t need mine.”

  He didn’t know who he felt worse for, the horse or the girl.

  THEY ENTERED ROSECROFT via the big back deck, and Joely relaxed once the fragrance of her mother’s abundant flowers enveloped her. Roses, morning glories, gladiolas, Indian paint brush, daisies, and beautiful Asian lilies were just some of the blooms coming into their own now that June was half gone. It was a relief to be away from the barn, away from the horse, and away from Alec’s well-meaning hints that she should bond more closely with Muddy Waters. She had no desire to bond. She loved being up on his back. Riding, as frustrated as it made her—and she was going to have to work on that—was still a glorious activity, but all the overhead that surrounded the moments on horseback only made her anxious.

  Alec didn’t push, however, and so she didn’t argue or explain. He didn’t understand about Penny. That was fine. She wasn’t going to talk about her horse out loud. She could barely handle the gruesome memories—or the ones she imagined since she’d never seen Penny’s body.

  The mental pictures melted away when she and Alec made their way into the kitchen, redolent with the scent of chili spices and baking corn bread.

  “This is why I’ve started eating here.” Alec sent a longing look toward the large pot on the stove. “I don’t create scents like this in my kitchen.”

  “I get riding lessons. You should take cooking—”

  Eager, excited voices from the living room cut her off.

  “Why this is wonderful. Sadie why didn’t you tell us?”

  Joely caught Alec’s questioning look and shrugged. She led the way out of the kitchen and saw the knot of family members in the front foyer.

  “I wasn’t certain he would come,” Sadie said. “It took several notes and some severe arm twisting. Family, I’d like you to meet an ancient old friend of mine, Trampas Manterville.”

  Mayberry—Trampas—appeared in the middle of the small crowd and started shaking hands as he addressed Sadie. “How do you do? Pleased to meet you. And, madam, I am not that ancient and hardly ancient and old together.”

  “Don’t make me sorry I invited you into polite company,” she retorted and gave his coat sleeve an admonishing flick of her hand.

  “Whoa, Grandma!” Joely whispered to Alec and bit back her laughter. “Is she flirting with him?”

  “Hope so. I think maybe she’s just happy to have someone her own age in the house.”

  Trampas was ushered all the way in and ensconced in the biggest armchair. Grandma took her usual spot across the floor in the gliding rocker beside her knitting basket. Trampas greeted Joely warmly. “I see that all went well the other evening.”

  She flushed and nodded. “It did. You gave me good advice.”

  “Advice?” Alec asked.

  “Mr. Manterville gets credit for telling me to follow you into Ina’s the other night.”

  “Is that right?” Alec grinned like a cat that had a parakeet by its tail. “In that case I owe you a handshake at the very least. I was so glad to find her there.”

  “Excuse me, I wasn’t a lost dog,” Joely said, indignant.

  “You were not.” Alec gave her a kiss, soft and quick, on the lips, in front of everyone there. “You were a lost piece of my heart.”

  “Awwwww.” Mia clapped and nudged their mother. “Even if he’s just kidding, and I’m not sure he is, that was class-A romantic.”

  A hundred comments that would make light of Alec’s shameless kiss rushed to Joely’s lips. You’re so strange. What a dork. Isn’t he weird?

  Suddenl
y, however, she didn’t need to excuse it. He’d kissed her, and she was kind of blown away. Despite her limp, despite her mercurial moods, despite her scars and all the things she lacked—like skills or a job—he’d kissed her in front of her mother and her sister and her grandmother. In an old-fashioned, unliberated sense he’d staked his claim and told the world he wasn’t embarrassed to do it.

  The fantasy was over-the-top. But she wrapped herself in it anyway.

  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I’m late!” Harper trotted into the room, feet clad in brightly striped socks, black ponytail slightly frayed, and an aqua tank top splattered with dark, round stains. “I got roped into helping Bjorn fix one of the four-wheelers, and I shouldn’t be allowed around oil cans. I’m going to run and change and then dinner will be on in ten minutes.”

  “Harpo, it’s fine; don’t fuss.” Mia stood. “You’re not late. Gram’s dinner guest just arrived, so no worries. I’ll set the table.”

  “Gram’s guest?” Harper squinted at their quiet grandmother, sitting placidly in her chair, and let her eyes stray to Trampas. She headed across the floor, extending her hand to him. “Hi. I’m Harper Wainwright, Sadie’s granddaughter.”

  Joely smiled. Hearing her sister’s married name still caused a ripple of surprise.

  “Harper. I’m delighted to meet you. I’m Trampas Manterville. I know who you are, of course. Your Community Arts Guild and all the programs you run out here are much talked about in town. You’re doing a wonderful thing for this area.”

  Harper grinned from ear to ear. The Double Diamond Arts Center she’d founded, on Paradise land that had once been owned by Cole’s family, was her pet project. “I’m so flattered, thank you, Mr. Manterville. I’ve been hearing rumors that you were back in the area.”

  “Everybody, please call me Trampas.”

  Harper turned to their grandmother. “I like him already, Grams.”

  “Well, you don’t know him.” Grandma Sadie flashed a beatific smile across the room as if daring him to tease back.

  “I don’t know,” Joely whispered to Alec again. “I have no precedent for this. How do you handle a flirting nonagenarian?”

  “You don’t use that fifty-cent word for starters,” he said and kissed her on the cheek.

  “I could define it if you didn’t understand.”

  “Later. I’ll take you home, and you can define whatever you like.”

  “Be careful what you wish for.”

  Once all the men were back from work, dinner passed in gales of laughter and endless stories. If his parents hadn’t kept him from monopolizing the conversation, Rory would have told Disney adventure tales the entire time. Gabe declared the Disney roller coasters top notch but the spinning teacups an alien plot to eradicate the human race. The storyteller of the night, however, was Trampas. His adventures since leaving Wyoming seventy years before were innumerable.

  He’d become an itinerant farm worker and traveled around the country for six years. At twenty-one he made his way across the ocean by working on a freight ship and lived in England where he met his wife.

  “Once I married my Nina, I knew I had to stop wandering and become respectable. I loved the open skies and traveling, but I went to school, became a teacher, fell in love with Shakespeare, and managed to work at everything from teaching to trash collecting when the need arose. We moved to the United States after fifteen years to finish raising our two children. I got a professorship in a tiny college in Kansas teaching English Literature and Shakespeare.”

  “That’s why you have a slight accent,” Harper said. “From living abroad.”

  “I spoke like a country hick when I arrived in London. I learned proper speech at school there, and I guess a little of the pronunciation became permanent.”

  “So what brought you back here?” Joely asked.

  “I never earned tenure at my college, and when budget cuts inevitably occurred, I was forced to retire at age seventy-one. Nina and I lived in our home for eleven years before she passed away five years ago. I decided that before I died I was going to go back to the traveling life I loved. I receive a small social security check each month,” he said cheerfully. “It’s enough for food and shelter and other necessities. I have a tent. I can stay in a hotel when it’s cold. I have used shelters and spent time working at them when I do. When I save enough, I can travel to a warmer or cooler location. It’s a good life.”

  “It’s an amazingly brave life,” Harper said. “What do your children think of this?”

  “They don’t like it, of course. Their homeless father. But I’ve lived with each of them, and we have better relationships the way things are. I’m no braver than a hardworking rancher. Yours is not a life for sissies.”

  “Did you come back here to visit? To see what it was like?” Mia asked.

  He and Grandma Sadie exchanged a meaningful look—this one not the least bit flirtatious.

  “And so we come to the reason I decided to accept Sadie’s invitation,” Trampas said. “I have a story about Paradise Ranch I thought you’d all like to hear.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  “THERE YOU ARE.”

  Alec found Joely sitting on a garden bench far beyond the house, in the clearing that overlooked the Tetons. This time of night there were no mountains visible, only pinpricks of stars and the waning crescent moon in the vast western sky.

  “I just needed to breathe a little. Everyone else is wrapped up in conversation. I didn’t think they’d miss me for a few minutes.”

  “I missed you.” He set his hands on her shoulders. “It’s been nearly forty-five minutes. Thought I’d better check.”

  “Has it? Oh, then I am sorry.”

  “No. I’m just making sure you’re okay. Did that story about your great-grandfather bother you?”

  For a moment she didn’t speak. He rubbed her shoulders, and she shrugged into his touch. Tilting her head back, she pointed into the starry sky. “The Big Dipper. There’s Draco the Dragon curving around Polaris.” She made sure he saw what she was showing him although he didn’t know how it followed his question. “Gemini, Leo, Cassiopeia.”

  “Cool,” he said.

  “I’m sure there are lots of places in the world to see the stars, but none of them are like this. Even when electricity came into use and it reached here, my grandfathers made sure no artificial light from the ranch yard or the house obscured the sky—how much foresight did that take? Every generation has tried its best to stick with traditions that allow humans and the land to sustain each other. Now Harper and Cole have the wind turbines out along the highway in an area that doesn’t obstruct the views or dig up the land. They’re talking with the triplets about raising some organic cattle for the girls’ restaurant in Denver. Those are the stories of Paradise I know and love.”

  “Ahhh,” he said. This was about the old story their visitor had told.

  “No matter how crappy things were in my life, even during the worst in the hospital, I knew Paradise was here—flawless, almost pristine, built and sustained by honest, hard-working, iron-willed men like my father. All because they inherited it from the first Crockett, who worked his young ass off to make it great. Now they’re trying to tell me that it’s a lie?”

  “Oh, honey, it’s not a lie. Even if it’s true that Eli won the land in a card game, he started with just a small part of what Paradise has become.”

  “It was the kernel. The start of everything. My great-grandfather was basically a cheat and a liar and one step from a murderer.”

  “Oh, now, I didn’t get that from Trampas’s story.”

  “Eli Crockett forced Simon Manterville to play poker for the land by holding a knife to his throat while he dealt the cards. That’s exactly what I heard.”

  “Doesn’t sound like Simon was a guy worth feeling sorry for.”

  “That doesn’t give someone the right to threaten his life because he wants the property.”

  “They don’t know why the game was
played.”

  “The point is, Eli didn’t work for the land like I’ve always been told. My legacy is based on a gambler’s lucky night. And even then he forced his luck. Simon wasn’t a real poker player but Eli was a card sharp. That sounds like fixed odds to me.”

  “Eli was a twenty-four-year-old kid who was brilliant.”

  Alec moved to squat in front of her and grasp her hands. “This is ancient history. It should be a fantastic story that’s all. Like the Australians who now search ancestries to see if they have some original colony prisoners in their lineage. It’s a matter of pride.”

  “An entire family was forced to move. We’re living on what had been their dream.”

  “Joely, come on. You heard the same story I did, not just from Trampas but from Sadie, too. The Mantervilles were defaulting on payments. They’d lost their cattle. They probably abused their kids. I’m not saying we know everything, but Eli only hastened something that would have happened anyway.”

  “You don’t understand the matter of pride.”

  “I do.” He understood that she was angry but not why.

  “And now there’s the great-nephew. He seems to think the land was stolen from his family. What if this Tyrone guy does have proof the deed was never signed over?”

  “But that was the point—Tyrone Whatever-his-name-is has given up the claim and gone back to his home in North Carolina. He has a family now. Trampas just wanted us to know the history between your family and his.”

  “Maybe the land actually does belong to his family.”

  “Oh, good grief. Joely, honey, are you just looking for a reason to be worried?”

  “Yes,” she said irritably. “Because I love worry and misery. Haven’t you figured that out about me?”

  “That’s not what I’m saying. I’m trying to figure out why you won’t look at this as a great family story. What’s really bothering you?”

  “I don’t know. It just got to me.”

  “Would a hug help?”

  She offered him her first wisp of a smile. “It sure couldn’t hurt.”

  “Scoot over.” He sat and put both arms around her, pulling her close. “Okay?”