Pat climbed back into the saddle.
“Anything else we can do for you, Vonnie?”
“Thank you, Joey. You’ve all done quite enough already.”
“Well, Alma will be waiting supper for us. You coming, Adam?”
“I’ll be along in a minute.”
Tipping the brims of their hats, the boys reined in their horses and rode off. Suki resumed her busy exploration. The dog still had Adam cornered.
“What is wrong with your dog?” The pet was making a real bid for Adam’s attention now, dipping in front of him, then jumping to paw his leg, tail wagging, tongue hanging out.
“She’s female.” Vonnie grinned, leaning against the door frame. “I’d think you would be used to females trying to get your attention.”
Their eyes met and held in silent challenge.
“Suki, stop it!” She opened the door, nudging the dog into the house. “I know you don’t want my gratitude, Adam, but you have it. Thank you anyway for bringing the birds home.”
“You’d better sell them—”
“No.” Years ago the sun rose and set on this man. Now he wanted her birds, not her. Her birds. Well, thank you, Lord, for making this easier. The day she sold Adam and Beth the birds would be the day she ate dirt.
When she looked up, she caught him staring at her. “Was there something else?”
“No, that’s it.”
She swallowed against the dryness in her throat. Wasn’t this what she’d wanted? It was over once and for all. No ties, no thoughts of Adam Baldwin. Not ever again.
“Vonnie.”
“Yes?”
“I don’t know much about birds, but a couple of yours seemed a little droopy. They were acting strange. A few looked sickly.”
“I’ll have Genaro check them.”
Nodding, he put his hat on, then fit it more snugly on his head. “Take care.”
“Yes…you too.”
“Good night.”
She leaned against the door frame, watching him ride away. A sob caught in her throat and she closed her eyes against the aching emptiness inside her.
After a while, she straightened. The ostriches. He said a couple were acting strange.
Exactly what did strange mean? She glanced in the direction he had just ridden.
Strange to him?
Stepping off the porch, she walked to the pens. Dusk had fallen. The ranch hands were settling in for the night. After their daylong adventure, the birds were exhausted. They should be separated, but it was more than she could cope with tonight. Tomorrow she would separate the pairs from the young ones and…
She paused, peering closer through the fence. One or two did look a bit under the weather.
Her heart hammered; she stepped closer to examine a midsize chick standing closest to the fence. The bird stared back at her with large expressive eyes.
Please, she silently prayed, don’t let any of the birds get sick. They’re too expensive to lose. Especially now.
“Vonnie?”
She whirled in response to her mother’s voice.
“Yes, Mother?”
“Why are you out there in that heat? And you without a bonnet on your head. Get into the house, child, before you have sunstroke!”
Frowning, Vonnie moved away from the pens. “It’s all right, Momma. It’s getting dark.”
“Dark? Why, child, it’s broad daylight! You come on in now—and tell your daddy I’m waiting supper on him! That man—he doesn’t know when to stop. Tell him to come in here and get washed up. Hurry now!”
Vonnie watched as she closed the back door, then through the open window, Vonnie saw her shuffling back through the kitchen.
“Oh, Mother,” she murmured. Self-pity overwhelmed her. Her life was falling apart, and she didn’t have a shoulder to cry on. If only Cammy was in her right mind. She couldn’t tell her about Adam and the marriage, but she could cry on her shoulder. And she could feel safe again.
Safe and loved.
It was starting to feel like a long time since she’d felt either.
Chapter Nine
Late Saturday afternoon, Adam was totaling a column of figures when the library door opened. He glanced up, then, recognizing Andrew’s distinctive step as he limped into the room, returned to his work.
“Am I interrupting?”
“No. What’s on your mind?”
Penciling in the column total, Adam closed the ledger. It was unusual for Andrew to seek his company. The loner of the four Baldwin boys, more withdrawn and serious about life in general than Pat and Joey, Andrew was the balance weight to the younger boys’ impetuousness. As a child he had rarely engaged in boyish pranks, and, as a result, he often drew P.K.’s wrath and seldom his favor. P.K. expected his boys to be boys.
As his sons grew into manhood, it had been hard for them to live up to P.K.’s expectations. He wanted them to be men. His kind of men. Men’s men.
Removing the spectacles he’d worn since childhood, Andrew cleaned the lenses with a handkerchief before settling them back onto his nose. Nearly as tall as Adam, with the same Baldwin leanness, he was a handsome man, save for the fact he rarely smiled.
The chair squeaked as Adam leaned back and stared at him.
“Books closed for the month?”
“Just balanced out. You’ll need to look them over, but we seem to be in good shape.” For the shape they were in. If the situation didn’t improve soon, he’d have to ask Beth to set a wedding date. He didn’t take to the idea. Or his deception.
“Has P.K. seen them yet?”
“No,” Adam hesitated. “I’m not sure he’s that interested in our financial situation.”
P.K. still ran the ranch, but the day-to-day matters had been left to Adam.
Andrew’s expression sharpened. “It looks as if he’s finally about to turn the reins over to you.”
“I doubt it.”
Adam studied the specially made boot that accommodated his brother’s shortened leg. Andrew had never accepted his affliction, nor was he charitable to those who singled him out for pity. He was also the brother who most resented Adam’s favor with P.K., and most resented Adam’s sense of responsibility toward the younger brothers.
The difference P.K. had made between the two boys was a sore spot between them since early childhood. P.K. preferred his oldest son and made no bones about it. Adam, his firstborn, was the child who most favored his wife in looks and temperament. When the reins of power were handed down, it was understood that Adam would assume control of Cabeza del Lobo and would be responsible for the ranch.
Adam resented the favoritism as much as his brothers did. He certainly didn’t seek it. It created an insurmountable barrier between himself and Andrew, yet he was unable to alter his father’s partiality. The younger boys learned to live with it and used it to their advantage, seeking Adam’s favor when P.K. vented his fury on them. Andrew had never accepted it.
“Teague Taylor’s death appears to have gotten to him.” Andrew limped to the sideboard to pour a glass of tea. The boot made a harsh, grating sound against the pine floor. “Maybe the old man’s finally realizing that he’s not invincible.”
“He’s not exactly a kid anymore.”
Andrew took a bracing sip from the glass, grimacing as the liquid slowly trickled down his throat.
“Think Vonnie will keep the birds?”
“The birds?”
Andrew’s lips curled with a mirthless smile. “You’ve forgotten the ostriches?”
Adam grunted. “Hardly. It took hours to cut them out of the herd and get them back to the Taylor ranch.”
“Yes,” Andrew mused, staring into his glass. “It seems she has her hands full.”
Swinging out of his chair, Adam moved to the file cabinet. “She’s a big girl. She can handle it.” And stubborn as a Missouri mule.
“I’m surprised to hear you say that. I always thought you had a thing for Vonnie Taylor.”
Closing the file
drawer, Adam sat down again. “Name one boy in Potter County who didn’t.” One of Andrew’s rare smiles slipped through, and Adam caught it.
He grinned. “Didn’t you?”
“Yes,” Andrew confessed. “I suppose I did.”
“Suppose you did?” Adam repeated, pinching his lower lip between thumb and forefinger as he studied his younger brother. “If I remember right, when you were in the eighth grade you cornered her outside school and kissed her.”
Andrew took another sip of tea and stepped to the window. “You think she’ll keep the birds now that Teague’s gone?”
“If she’s smart, she won’t.”
Andrew stared out the window, a pensive look shadowing his features.
“What do you make of her—now that she’s grown?”
Adam looked up.
“Who?”
“Vonnie—what do you think of her?”
The question caught Adam off guard. Andrew usually had his own opinions about people and kept them to himself, rarely expressing an interest in what anyone else thought. As far as women were concerned, he’d never been seriously interested in one, at least not that Adam knew about. He’d always thought it was because of the limp and Andrew’s mistaken belief that a woman didn’t want to be seen with an “invalid.” Adam believed that many a woman would be proud to be on Andrew’s arm, but his brother refused to share the belief.
As he grew older, Andrew had ignored the fairer sex, choosing instead to bury himself in his books. Women ceased to be an issue as far as Adam could tell. Vonnie Taylor was the only girl Andrew ever mentioned. Even as a boy, Adam had known his brother had a crush on her.
“I think she’s a beautiful woman,” Adam said.
Turning away from the window, Andrew smiled. “Pity. She appears to have lost her fascination with you.”
Adam ignored the gibe, but the edge in Andrew’s voice caught his attention. He knew his brother had resented Vonnie’s favoring him. He didn’t blame Andrew; he’d have been jealous if he’d thought Vonnie had favored Andrew over him. But that had been a long time ago.
A knock sounded at the library door, diverting his attention. Alma bustled in carrying a tray with two pieces of pecan pie, cups, and a pot of fresh steaming coffee. “Supper’s running late, tonight. I’ve brought something to tide you over.”
Adam glanced at the laden tray. “You spoil us, Alma.”
Pinching Andrew’s cheek as if he was still a youngster, she winked. “Sí, but the two of you are worth it.”
The housekeeper set the tray onto the desk and added a drop of cream to Andrew’s coffee, before bustling out again.
Adam reached for a cup and took a sip of the hot coffee. “Why the sudden fascination with Vonnie?”
Andrew swung to confront him, and Adam recognized the familiar tightness around his mouth.
Meeting his brother’s eyes over the rim of the cup, Adam continued. “You just being neighborly, or are you concerned about her?”
Adam cut a bite of pie and savored the rich taste. It struck him as odd that Andrew had been at Vonnie’s the night Teague was buried. No more curious than his own unexpected arrival, he supposed, yet it wasn’t like Andrew to show such compassion. Not even for Vonnie.
“No particular reason. I’m just curious about what she plans to do now that her father’s gone and her mother’s no longer responsible. She’s a woman alone. Looks like she needs a man to help her. Maybe I should see if I can do anything to ease her load.”
Adam’s brow lifted. “Who told you Cammy was no longer responsible?”
“I overheard some of the hands talking. Is it true?”
Pensive now, Adam looked away. “I don’t know.”
“Why not?” The sharp edge was still in Andrew’s tone. “You’ve been over there often enough lately. You should know what’s going on.”
“Well, Andrew, I don’t know what’s going on at the Taylors’. It’s none of my business.”
Staring into his cup, Andrew turned thoughtful.
“What does Beth think about you spending so much time at the Taylor ranch?”
“I wasn’t aware I was spending an undue amount of time over there.” The conversation was taking a nasty turn. “I took her birds back. You got a problem with that?”
“A problem?” Andrew laughed hollowly. “Is the ‘gimp’ not allowed to be concerned about a neighbor?”
“Andrew, if you’ve got something on your mind, spit it out.”
“Things never change, do they? Adam’s top dog—Andrew’s the pitied one.”
Shoving his cup aside, Andrew got to his feet and limped from the room.
As the study door closed behind him, Adam realized the rift between Andrew and himself was deepening, and there wasn’t a thing he could do about it.
Beth Baylor arrived at Cabeza del Lobo around six.
Alma’s eyes crinkled in a friendly grin when she opened the door.
“Oh, how bonita you look.”
Beth was wearing a dark rose dress with a tight waist, a cascade of lace descending from the top of the neck to the waist. A band of lace decorated the edges of the short, close-fitting jacket, matching that on the hem of the narrow skirt and overskirt. Her blond hair was piled high on her head.
“Adam’s in the study with Andrew,” Alma said. “I’m sure they won’t be long. I am in the kitchen. You can join me there, or perhaps you’d like to sit in the parlor—”
“The parlor, please.” Beth peeled off her gloves and handed them, along with her bag, to Alma. “Mmm, something smells wonderful.”
“I put a leg of lamb in the oven earlier,” the housekeeper told her, leading the way toward the back of the house. “Would you like some tea?”
“I’d love a cup, thank you. It was so dusty on the way here.”
As Beth passed the study doors, Andrew burst out, greeting her with little more than a glance.
“Andrew, my goodness, you startled me—”
Her greeting fell on deaf ears as he brushed past her and slowly ascended the stairs to the second floor.
Pushing open the library door, Beth found Adam leaning back in his chair, staring out the window. He turned when she tapped lightly on the door.
“Hello. I know I’m early. Hope you don’t mind.”
Adam stood up. “Hello, Beth. I didn’t hear you come in.” Moving around the desk, he lightly brushed her cheek with a cursory greeting.
“It’s so nice that we’re having lamb for supper.”
“Lamb?”
She frowned. “You don’t like lamb?”
“It isn’t my favorite.”
“Oh, dear. You don’t like lamb? Does Alma know? No, I’m sure she doesn’t or she wouldn’t have prepared lamb for supper. Well, not to worry, darling. I’ll just go to the kitchen and ask her to prepare something other than lamb for your supper. What would you like? Steak? Chops? Chicken—you like chicken. Broiled, baked, stewed?”
Adam felt his hackles rising. “Don’t worry about it. Alma knows I’m not partial to lamb, but the others enjoy it so I can—”
“Eat it, but you’re just being nice,” she chided. “Really, darling, Alma doesn’t mind.” Moving closer, she tripped her fingers lightly along the front of his shirt. “After all, it won’t be long before I’m responsible for all your meals, and I need to know your likes and dislikes.”
“Really, Beth—”
“It’s not necessary,” she finished for him. “But it is! I couldn’t eat a bite knowing that you weren’t enjoying your meal.” She bent, giving him a light peck on the mouth. “Relax, darling. I’ll go into the kitchen and get the chicken started.”
“Beth, I wouldn’t do that. Alma doesn’t—”
“Like anyone in her kitchen.” Beth sighed. “I’m sure once I explain the problem she’ll welcome the intrusion. She’ll want you to be pleased, won’t she? Now, relax and let me do my duty.”
Adam released a mental sigh of relief when the door closed behind her.
He wished, just once, she’d let him finish his own sentence.
Beth was back momentarily, and he bit back a grin. She looked like a hen that had just had her tail feathers singed.
“Alma says that you can eat what everybody else is eating, or you can go hungry. ‘This is not a cantina.’ Those were her exact words. She says she will cook one meal and one meal only. She actually was quite rude,” Beth complained. “And I had decided to fix burritos—do you like burritos?”
“I can eat them.”
“But do you like them, Adam?”
“I don’t know, Beth. Do you like them?” He didn’t think Spanish cuisine was standard fare at the Baylor table.
Smiling, she said, “I do if you do.”
“But do you like them, Beth? That’s the question.”
“No,” she said pensively, “I believe the question was, do you like them?”
The standoff was getting on his nerves. “They’re all right.”
She made a pouty face. “Just ‘all right’? It’s a woman’s place to accommodate her husband, and I desperately need to know your food preferences.”
“I don’t want to be ‘accommodated,’ Beth, I just want to know if you like burritos.”
The subject was downright infuriating, but for some reason he felt compelled to see it through.
“Dear me, I think we’d better change the subject.” Perching herself on the edge of the chair, she wagged her finger playfully at him. “Someone is getting cranky.”
Adam drummed a pencil on a chair back, his eyes boring into hers.
“Oh, whatever. Burritos aren’t important. There’s something far more important we need to discuss.”
Adam sat back down at the desk, waiting for the announcement. The bombshell wasn’t long in coming.
“I’m going to ask Vonnie to make my wedding dress.”
He must have looked blank, because she clapped her hands together gleefully.
“Isn’t it wonderful? I know it’s extremely extravagant, but Father said I could. Now, the question is—do you want me to arrange for Vonnie to make the shirts for the men, or do you—”
Adam interrupted. “Beth, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
She paused, blinking. “Why? She makes exquisite bridal gowns.”
Yellow Rose Bride Page 9
