River Song

by Sharon Ihle

  "But our father," Sean cut in, "also cares deeply for Sunny."

  "I've thought of that too," Cole assured. "Every spring my family holds a huge barbecue at the ranch and invites all our neighbors and the townsfolk. That party is scheduled for this Saturday, and because of it we have to make a run into town for supplies tomorrow."

  "And so?" the younger man shrugged.

  "So, I thought you might be interested in riding along with the hands and sending a wire to your father. I'm sure if he knows you're both safe and staying at the Triple F, he won't mind if your return is delayed a few weeks." Or, in Sunny's case, months or maybe even years.

  As he considered Cole's proposal, Sean dropped into a squat and scooped up a handful of pebbles scattered along the shoreline. After regaining his footing, he skipped the stones, one at a time, across the surface of the reddish water. The rancher's offer was inviting, he had to admit. He was bone-weary from his long search, wanted nothing more than a hot bath and a real bed on which to rest.

  There was also the problem of Sunny herself. She would not leave this valley without a fight, would give him a battle he was mentally unable to meet at this time. Cole's plan made good sense. What would be the harm if they should stay on for a week? Their father would be happy simply knowing they were alive. His mind made up, Sean turned to the rancher with an extended hand.

  "I thank you for your kind offer. I look forward to visiting your home and accepting your hospitality." As the men shook hands, Sean narrowed one eye and said, "I hope you understand this, however. Sunny and I will be leaving the Triple F one week after your barbecue."

  Cole had to force his hand to keep pumping, hoped Sean hadn't noticed the hesitation in his grip. Preventing Sunny and her brother from departing so soon was a problem he would have to deal with later.

  For now, he had to figure a way to convince his father to welcome another half-breed into his home.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Nellie sewed the final length of frothy silver grey lace to the bodice of Sunny's ball gown, then bit off the thread at the knot. "There," she said with a satisfied grin. "That ought to cover enough of you for decency."

  Sunny pressed the dress to her bosom and swirled like a ballerina before stopping in front of the full-length mirror to examine the fruits of her labor. She and Nellie had worked on altering the dress almost since her arrival at the Triple F. Now, with only a couple of days before the barbecue, it was almost finished.

  Sunny studied her reflection, delighted with the effect the fabric had on her appearance. The gown, made of fine silk in a bright peacock-blue color, matched her eyes in intensity and spirit, brought out the creaminess in her complexion, and complimented the ebony gloss of her hair. Never before had she touched, much less worn anything so beautiful and elegant. Running her fingers along the smooth fabric, Sunny closed her eyes and sighed.

  "You'll take my brother's breath away," Nellie whispered, guessing her new friend was thinking of Cole's reaction when he saw her in the dress.

  Sunny laughed as she picked out Nell's image in the mirror. "I suppose he might have cause to suffocate when he sees his little Indian captive dressed up in one of his sister's gowns."

  "That's not what I meant." Blushing, Nellie chewed on her fingernail and averted her gaze. "We don't all think like Father. I don't, and I don't believe Cole does either, but sometimes it's hard to go against our stubborn father." Jerking her head up as if slapped by a sudden thought, Nellie blurted out, "Oh. Are you upset about your brother's arrangements? If you are, I could try to talk to father again."

  "No, no," she assured the worried woman. "Believe me, Sean is too tired to argue or care where he beds down tonight." She thought about it a minute, and realized no matter what Nathan or anyone thought of him, Sean was probably exactly where he wanted to be. "I can assure you my brother will be very comfortable in the barn. Even if your father had insisted he stay in the bunkhouse with the ranch hands, I am certain he would not have accepted his offer."

  "Well, if you’re sure."

  "Please, do not give it another thought." It was impossible to explain Sean's attitude to someone like Nell. She would be unable to put herself in his place, couldn't understand how difficult it would be to live in the same room with a group of strangers—white men who'd been subjected to bloody Indian attacks with unnerving frequency. It would take only one ranch hand, bitter over the death of a friend or loved one, to end Sean's life with no more regret than he'd have if he'd killed a rabid dog. That fact wasn't worth a rope bed, no matter how comfortable.

  Determined to end the disturbing conversation and shake off the fears welling up in her, Sunny turned back to the mirror and regarded the ball gown. "Would you mind showing me what is left to be done so I can finish the work myself? You have already spent too much time on me. I think your husband must be eager for your company."

  The fire in Nellie's cheeks flared again as she scooped the dress into her arms. "Bucky's still talking to Father and Cole. He won't miss me for a few more minutes. I'll help you find some ribbon to match the piping."

  Chuckling to herself at Nell's discomfort, Sunny thought back to the confusion of a few hours earlier. She, Cole, and Sean had arrived at the ranch at almost the same moment as Buck Wheeler and the ranch hand who'd accompanied him on his month-long journey. Caught up in questioning his son-in-law about his adventures, Nathan had taken little notice of the newest half-breed Cole had brought home and seemed, in fact, to believe Sean was a hired hand rather than the brother of his houseguest.

  This, Sunny noticed, had set well with Sean. And she knew the reason why. He wouldn't want to be beholden to Cole or any member of the Fremont family. He would rather work for his keep than accept their hospitality in order to make it easier for him to leave when the time came. No matter that Sean was a farmer who'd hired himself out to a cattle ranch. No matter he had no idea how to perform the tasks that would be required of him.

  The only thing that seemed to matter to her stubborn brother was the fact that when he was ready to leave, he would try to take her with him. Well, she thought angrily, she would not permit it. She would find a way to stay for a while longer, to convince Sean to return to Yuma alone and leave her here.

  "...should be wide enough. What do you think?"

  "What? Oh." Sunny pressed a finger against her lips as she realized that strange buzzing noise she'd vaguely heard in the back of her mind must have been the sound of Nellie's voice. "I am sorry. I was thinking of other things and did not hear what you said."

  "That's all right." Nellie draped the gown across the back of a chair and stuck the needle in a pin cushion. "Maybe we have done enough sewing for this evening. And I suppose you're right," she sighed as she crossed the room, "Bucky is probably in our room waiting for me now. I'd better not keep him waiting. Goodnight, Sunny."

  "Goodnight, Nell." Sunny fought the sudden and unreasonable urge to offer her sympathies as Nellie closed the door behind her. Odd, she thought. Why should she be feeling sorry for a woman who was on her way to her husband's bed after a month's absence? She and Cole had only been apart for a few hours now, and just knowing he was only a couple of doors down the hallway was almost enough for her to risk the ultimate breech of good manners and sneak into his room. Why did Nellie seem so reluctant to join her love in their bridal chamber?

  Maybe, she speculated as she changed into a borrowed nightgown, this attitude came with the years, and that which had once been new and exciting was now boring and commonplace. But recent memories of her mother and father, of the deep affection they openly displayed towards one another, convinced her this was not inevitable or likely.

  Sunny blew out the lamp and buried herself beneath the huge patchwork quilt on her bed. Snuggling into the warmth, she thought back to when Nellie had confided in her and told about the Apache raid on the Triple F ranch several years ago. Nell said the attack had caused the horse she'd been riding to rear and tumble over backwards. The animal then landed on h
er, crushing her pelvis. Perhaps, Sunny surmised with a sad heart, the injuries from that riding accident had not only left Nellie incapable of bearing children, but had also affected her intimate life as a woman or made it impossible all together. Troubled to think her new friend couldn't experience the kind of pleasures Cole had brought to her just by brushing her lips with his, Sunny drifted off to sleep.

  The next two days left little time for worry over anything.

  The ranch was teeming with party preparations and enthusiasm, involved hired hands and guests alike in a flurry of baking, barbecue pit preparations, and decorating.

  Caught up in the excitement on the morning of the big day, Sunny fidgeted at the dressing table as Nellie removed the rags she'd carefully wound throughout Sunny's long coarse hair the night before.

  "It worked," Nellie declared, draping a perfect ebony tube down the front of Sunflower's dressing gown. "I wasn't sure your hair would hold a curl, but look at these ringlets."

  Nell's request was unnecessary. Sunny couldn't look at anything else, could hardly believe she'd allowed Cole's sister to turn her head into this tumbleweed of tangled logs.

  Nellie happily bounced each coil, her pale blue eyes bright with her victory over the stiff, straight shafts of hair. "Well? What did I tell you? Are you surprised?"

  "To say the least," Sunny answered honestly. "My, my," she added, craning her neck to assess all the damage. "It is curly. Should I leave it this way, or would it look better if I tie it back with a ribbon?"

  "Oh, I'm not done yet." Nellie stood back and examined Sunny's profile from every angle. When she'd decided on the perfect style, she splayed her fingers and announced, "Sit very still. When I'm done with you, you won't know yourself."

  For Sunny, those words unfortunately proved to be prophetic. When Nellie finished her masterpiece, a long uncomfortable hour later, she finally allowed her victim a look in the mirror. An Indian disguised as a white woman stared back at Sunny.

  Most of her hair was slicked back then piled high on the back of her head and artfully woven together with strips of blue silk and smoke grey velvet. The few long tendrils left free hung down to the middle of her back or could, if she were feeling coquettish, be draped over one shoulder. The look was one of elegance, of prosperity. Some people would even say she was beautiful. But it was not the look of an Indian/Irish half-breed named Sunflower Callahan. What would her mother think of this transformation? Or her father?

  Nellie chose that moment to let Sunny know what she thought. "You're absolutely beautiful. The men will be falling all over themselves to get a dance with you tonight."

  Sunny turned to disagree, to tell her she couldn't go through with this charade, but stopped herself as she realized the girl actually believed her own words. What about Cole? Would he have the same reaction as his sister? She whirled back towards the mirror, hoping to find this beautiful woman, but the reflection continued to mock her, to laugh at her attempts to be something she was not. Sunny opened her mouth, tried to form the words she knew she must say, but the words wouldn't take shape.

  "I understand," Nellie comforted, patting Sunny's shoulder. "I remember my first big dance and new hairdo. The excitement kinda turns your tongue to a washboard, doesn't it?" Laughing, Nellie squeezed Sunny's shoulders then flounced over to the closet. "You just sit there and admire yourself in the mirror. I'll lay your day dress and petticoats out for you, then I have to be getting dressed myself."

  Any thoughts Sunny had of gently convincing Nell to dismantle the creation and wash the coils out of her hair vanished. She had no choice but to carry this burden through the process of meeting the guests then later at the dance. Her only hope was that as the festivities spilled over into tomorrow, no one would notice if she should revert to her old, comfortable self.

  Resigned to the idea that she must at least start out acting and dressing in the same manner as the other female guests, Sunny even allowed Nell to stuff her into a rib-pinching corset before the delighted hostess would think of going to her own room to preen for the party. And if that wasn't bad enough, she also had to stand still while Nellie tied the tapes to form the proper rear height of an underpinning called a bustle.

  After Nellie was gone, Sunny took a moment to examine the strange undergarments. Unused to anything more restrictive than a belt about her mid-section, she poked at the white duck corset material and fingered the ridges of whalebone sewn inside it. How was she expected to endure this contraption all day and then all night at the dance as well? She would never be able to do it. Sunny inhaled, testing the limits of her freedom, but could only fill her lungs to half their capacity. When she turned sideways to examine the bustle in the mirror, she groaned when she saw the shape of the ridiculous contraption. She already had a bottom. Why did she need another?

  Guest or not, she thought with a stamp of her foot, these little items would be discarded along with the day dress or she would faint before she ever got to her first dance. Grumbling to herself, Sunny stepped into a red flannel petticoat, careful not to snag it on her new pointed-toe shoes, then slid two more petticoats of white taffeta over her head. Finally ready for the dress, she struggled with the skirt portion, a mass of pink organdy with a large pouf of material gathered and draped over the rear bustle.

  After pausing for a breath of air, she forced the tight sleeves of the plum velvet basque over her arms, then pushed an endless row of ornate cloth buttons through the embroidered buttonholes. When Sunny was completely dressed, she fastened a pink broach at the throat of the ruffled collar and turned toward the mirror. She was presentable. She could pass as a fairly cultivated guest. She was also seriously in need of oxygen. Sunny backed over to the edge of her bed and sat panting until someone knocked at the door.

  "Yes?" she called out weakly.

  "I got a message for you if you're dressed."

  Sunny recognized the voice as that of Buck Wheeler, Nellie's husband. She pushed herself off the bed, taking one last glance at her barely recognizable reflection as she passed by the mirror, then pulled the door open.

  "Well now," Buck said with a low whistle. "Ain't you somethin'. That Nellie's dress?"

  "Uh, yes, it is," Sunny stumbled, unused to such bold flattery.

  "Well, it looks a damn sight better on you, darlin'."

  Uneasy, wondering how she should respond to Buck's compliments, Sunny took a backward step. "Ah, thank you. Did I hear you say you had a message?"

  But he didn't answer immediately. Instead he popped a toothpick in the corner of his mouth and regarded her through his small, muddy brown eyes. When she'd first met him, she thought the color was unusual, a striking blend of brown and gold. Now, as he stared at her, through her, they began to look predatory, mean and hungry like the eyes of a coyote. Sunny shivered, tensed as she realized his thick bull-like frame filled and blocked the doorway. Was she trapped like a frightened rabbit in the confines of her room, or was her imagination running wild?

  Amused by her wide round eyes and sudden spasm, Buck laughed and said, "Relax, darlin'. The message ain't gonna hurt you none. Cole is waitin' for you downstairs in the library." He backed away, flipping the toothpick to the floor, and added, "Some of the highfalutin guests have already arrived. I reckon he's anxious to show off his little prize." Buck winked at her, then strolled off, chuckling and shaking his head.

  For a long, soul-searching minute, Sunny stood rooted to the spot. Buck's attitude, while disrespectful and rude, really wasn't so unexpected, and would most likely be exhibited by others once she joined the party. Was she a fool for thinking she might fit in? Was she asking too much of herself? Of Cole? It would be so simple to strip off Nellie's dress and tear the miserable corset from her body. She could plead sudden illness, take to her bed, and remain there until the last guest had gone home, even if it took three days. Sunny glanced back at the bed, then down the hallway.

  Her father's encouraging voice echoed in her mind, assured her she had as much right to enjoy this
festive occasion as anyone. But she wasn't able to move until a sudden dose of her mother's pride practically shoved her through the doorway.

  Downstairs, Cole passed through the living room on his way from the library to the front door of his home. He paused at the foot of the long curving stairway and lit a cigarette. Where was Sunflower? He'd sent Bucky upstairs with a message for her fifteen minutes ago, and now he couldn't wait any longer. Down the road puffs of dust rose like storm clouds, announcing the impending arrival of more guests. His chances of finding a few moments alone with Sunny would be practically nonexistent from here on out, and now it didn't look as if it would be possible at all.

  In frustration, he blew several smoke rings to the ceiling, then took a final hopeless glance at the top of the stairs just as Sunny stepped into view. The cigarette dangled from the corner of his open mouth as she cautiously began her descent. Too involved with keeping her skirts away from her feet to notice his presence, Cole was able to study her, undetected, as she drew closer to him.

  She was a vision, a frothy pink model of femininity. She was impeccably groomed from the top of her carefully coiffed head to her white silk stockings and pointed-toe shoes. She was a woman to do any man proud. But she wasn't Cole's woman. She wasn't the Sunflower Callahan who had managed to get a hold on his heart.

  Flipping his cigarette into a milk pail filled with sand for just that purpose, Cole made his presence known. "May I escort you outside, you gorgeous stranger?" He'd kept his voice soft and low to avoid startling her, but she lurched at the sound anyway. Cole offered a gentle hand, steadying her as she negotiated the last step.

  "Oh, thank you." Sunny gladly accepted the crook of his elbow and worked at appearing nonplussed in spite of her discomfort. How would a fine lady excuse this sudden clumsiness? "I think my feet are not used to these shoes just yet. Perhaps a stroll outside would ease their grip on my toes."