Her brow furrowed. “You don’t need to do that, Ty.”
“Yes, I do.”
She reached across the space between them. He saw her intention and gripped her hand. “I forgive you,” she said. “So does God.”
“Josie hasn’t. I ruined her life.”
“Hogwash!” She released his fingers and pushed off in the rocker with surprising force. “You didn’t ruin Josie’s life anymore than being blind ruined mine. Bad things happen. We carry on or we quit. Josie’s not a quitter, but she’s had trouble getting over the heartache, maybe because we’ve had so much of it. We lost you first, then Jeremiah and Nate…sometimes it’s just too much.”
“I understand.” He’d felt that way in prison.
“You came at the right time, Ty. If anyone can win the Maze, it’s you riding Smoke.”
“I hope so.” For Josie’s sake he had to win, but today’s ride had opened his eyes to a harsh fact. Five years was a long time. Ty was older, stronger and wiser. Smoke was older and slower. It would take some effort to get ready for the race, something he would have to do in between chores.
He could have sat with Mrs. Bright for another hour, but he didn’t want to irritate Josie so he stood. “I should be going.”
“You’re welcome to Nate’s room,” Mrs. Bright offered.
Nate had slept in a room on the first floor. Josie and her sisters had occupied the second floor, a space Ty hadn’t seen except a few days before the wedding when he’d lugged her cedar chest down the stairs and into his wagon. The chest had belonged to her maternal grandmother, who’d hauled it all the way from St. Louis. It had been stuffed with bed linens and things for her kitchen…things Ty had never seen. When he’d been convicted, Nate had hauled the chest back to the Bright ranch. Ty could only imagine what Josie experienced when she’d opened it.
All of a sudden, he felt caged. “I appreciate the offer, Mrs. Bright. But I’d rather stay in the bunkhouse.”
“Whatever you’d like, but come and see me again.” Her eyes looked glassier than usual. “An old woman gets lonely, you know.”
“I know. But I don’t want to step on Josie’s toes.”
“It’s my home, too. You’re invited for supper any time.”
“Thank you.” Ty bent and kissed her cheek. “Good night, Mrs. Bright.”
“Good night, Ty.”
He left through the front door, closed it and glanced at the porch swing. Instead of the vacant spot he expected, he saw Josie and froze. In the grayish light, her auburn hair stood out like a flame. Her skin had the luster of pearls, and her turquoise eyes matched the twilight sky. He couldn’t stop looking at her…all those years in prison, he’d tried to forget her. He thought he’d succeeded, but looking at her now, he knew the truth. This woman owned his heart lock, stock and barrel. He’d never stopped loving her and he never would.
To keep from hurting, he focused on the most ordinary of things. “Thanks for supper. You always were a good cook.”
“I enjoy it, even if it’s just for Mama.”
She sounded lonely in the mournful way of the wind. Ty knew that sound well. In prison he’d stand in the yard behind the fifteen-foot walls, not feeling the wind but hearing the hollow sound of it. No one could understand unless they’d stood in that spot. He understood Josie because they’d both sat on that swing. They’d both grieved for what might have been, but she didn’t want that kinship. Unable to help her, he walked away.
“Ty?”
He faced her. “Yes?”
“Can you really win the Maze?”
“I don’t know,” he said honestly. “But I’ll do my best.”
“That’s all anyone can ask.”
He waited, hoping she’d say something else, but she turned her head and stared at the pinkish horizon. There was no romance in the sunset, no hope in the fading light, so he murmured, “Good night, Josie,” and walked alone to the bunkhouse.
He wouldn’t be sleeping behind bars tonight, but in a way he’d entered a prison of another kind, one that could only be unlocked by Josie’s forgiveness. Whether she knew it or not, she was trapped behind the same wall. The sweet girl he’d loved had turned into a hard woman. It troubled him greatly.
“Help her, Lord,” Ty said out loud. “Help us both.”
* * *
Josie stayed on the swing, watching Ty’s long stride as he walked away from the house. When she’d asked him about winning the race, she’d expected bravado and bragging. The old Ty would have been full of talk. The new one had a humility that confused her. She couldn’t trust boastfulness, but she admired honesty. As he neared the barn, he faded from her sight, changing from a man to a shadow and then to a memory. One memory led to another, until she recalled waiting for him at the church. When Nate delivered the news of the arrest, her mother had comforted her. Anne, the middle sister and Josie’s maid of honor, had explained to the guests. Scarlett, a junior bridesmaid, had looked stricken.
The next day Josie had visited Ty in jail. He’d insisted the trial would blow over. He’d shown no respect for how hurt she’d been, how the delay tainted what should have been a beautiful day. Two weeks later she’d watched guards load him into the black prison wagon. He’d stared at her through the bars, apologizing with his eyes and mouthing, “I love you, Josie. I’m so sorry… .”
She’d said nothing back. In that moment, her bitterness had taken root. It lived in her heart the way the dress stayed in her wardrobe—wrapped tight, sealed, unchanging. She didn’t want to be resentful, but she didn’t know how to stop the ugly feelings. Her mother had encouraged her to trust God through the sadness, but Josie didn’t have the will. She went to church because someone had to take her mother, but she didn’t listen to the sermons. Neither did she pray, though tonight she recalled the girl who’d loved God and Ty Donner with her whole heart.
Her throat ached with unspoken words…angry words that burst out with unexpected force. “God? Are You listening? I don’t want to feel this way. I don’t want to hate my life, and I don’t want to lose the ranch. Mama says I have to forgive Ty, but I can’t. It’s just too hard. He hurt me! He ruined everything! Why did You let it happen? Why?” With her eyes squeezed tight, she choked out, “Amen.”
The prayer brought no relief, no peace. She looked accusingly at the stars, then down to the bunkhouse. A light flared in a window, a sign Ty had arrived and lit a lamp. She thought of his honesty concerning the race, the way he took orders without quarreling. He’d changed. Josie wanted to change too, but mostly she wanted to rake him over hot coals. But she wouldn’t. She’d stay behind her wall of indifference where he couldn’t possibly hurt her.
Chapter Four
“I’m not feeling well,” Mrs. Bright said to her daughter. “You and Ty go to church without me.”
Ty had just knocked on the door and was waiting for the women on the porch. He hadn’t expected to be going to Sunday services, but last night Mrs. Bright asked him to do the driving. The three of them had been having supper, another invitation from Mrs. Bright, when she’d asked the favor.
He didn’t want to step on Josie’s toes, so he’d looked at her for permission. She shrugged and said he could do whatever he liked. He liked going to church, so he’d accepted the invitation with a politeness that matched Josie’s. He’d been at the ranch for two weeks now, and they hadn’t exchanged a single sharp word. The place no longer looked neglected and Smoke had regained his fitness, but Ty was no closer to winning Josie’s forgiveness. If Mrs. Bright stayed home, the ride to town would be colder than January.
He might have backed out of the trip, but he had another reason for going to town. Wayne Cooper, an old friend and the owner of the livery stable, ran the May Day Maze. Ty needed to sign up for the race, and he wanted to hear about the competiti
on. First, though, he had to get to town. He’d always been punctual, but prison had honed that tendency into nervousness. Being late to church made him uneasy, so he knocked again on the doorjamb. “Josie? Mrs. Bright? It’s getting late.”
Mrs. Bright called to him. “Josie’s on her way.”
Ty heard whispering, stepped back to the carriage and waited until Josie came out of the house alone. Her green dress made him wish he’d dressed up a little more. So did her prim hat and white gloves. When he offered to hand her into the carriage, she accepted as if he were a footman. He climbed up next to her and took the reins with Josie glaring at the road. “This wasn’t my idea,” she grumbled.
Hoping to ease the mood, he kept his voice light. “Mine neither, but I can’t say I mind.”
“I do.”
“It’s a pretty day.”
“It’s too warm.”
She’d disagree with whatever he said, so he said nothing. After a mile, he glanced at her profile. Her gaze had the stonelike quality he’d seen in the eyes of inmates with the longest sentences and the least amount of hope. He’d kept his distance from Josie out of respect, but now he wondered if he’d made a mistake. All that anger was simmering. A good stew got better with a time on the fire, but coffee burned and turned bitter.
Josie needed to empty her coffeepot, so to speak. If she couldn’t do it herself, Ty would do it for her. The worst thing about prison for Ty had been the helplessness. That’s why the Sunday services in the dining hall had appealed to him. His renewed faith had given him a sense of purpose. Josie had the ranch to fight for, but he had the feeling she really wanted to fight with him. If she needed a sparring partner, he’d be glad to oblige. He’d been a cocky kid. He could be an equally cocky man. “Give it up, Josie. If you want to yell at me, just do it.”
“Who says I want to yell?”
“I do.”
“Drop it, Ty. You don’t know me anymore.”
But he did… If there was one thing that got Josie fired up, it was women’s rights. He agreed—women were as capable as men—but he didn’t mind using politics to rile her. “Come on, Josie. Admit it. Running the ranch is too much for you.”
Her gaze slid in his direction. “Considering the winter, I’ve done just fine.”
“I guess. But it’s a big job for a woman.”
“It’s a big job for anyone.”
“But especially a woman,” he insisted. “Especially a single woman.”
Josie’s jaw tensed. “I’ll have you know, a single woman can manage as well as a man.”
“Maybe, but it’s not a woman’s place. Women are better suited to cooking and darning socks…picking flowers…reading silly poetry. They like stuff that doesn’t take a lot of thought.”
Josie glared at him. “Stop it.”
“Stop what?”
“You’re trying to make me mad.”
“Is it working?”
“Hardly.”
“Why not give it a try?”
“Because I don’t want to.” She turned her gaze back to the road, a sign she was finished with the conversation.
He’d have preferred a tongue lashing to her silence, but silence was what she gave him. It lasted all the way to the church, until he halted the mule in front of the steps leading to the wide porch. He came around the carriage and offered his hand.
She took it as if he were a distant cousin. “You’re welcome to join me, of course. I sit in the third row.”
“I remember.” The Bright family had occupied the third row as long as Ty had known them.
Josie turned and went up the three steps. Ty drove the carriage to the field where families left their rigs, then he walked back to the church and slipped inside. He saw Josie’s green hat and a space next to her, but he didn’t want to draw attention. Instead he slid into the back pew.
When the organist struck the opening chords of “A Mighty Fortress Is Our God,” Ty stood with the congregation. He’d sung the hymn in prison and liked it, but today it sounded all wrong. The voices should have been deep and male. Instead he heard the birdsong of Josie’s soprano and he remembered… The last time they’d been in this church had been the Wednesday before the wedding. Reverend Hall had told them what to expect during the ceremony, then he’d counseled them in God’s plan for marriage. He’d talked about wives respecting their husbands and husbands loving their wives. He’d also told Ty to put his dirty socks in the laundry and to bring his wife a gift now and then. He’d told Josie to laugh at Ty’s jokes, even the silly ones, and to appreciate his hard work.
Last, he’d said words Ty would never forget.
Don’t let the sun go down on your anger.
Josie had been angry with him for five years. All that time, her bitterness had been festering. If she’d smiled in the past two weeks, he couldn’t remember it. Bitterness did that to a person. Ty knew, because he’d felt its grip in prison. He’d been wrong to go after the Scudders, but the judge and jury had been harsh. Not until he’d forgiven everyone—the jury, himself, even God—had he found peace.
Josie needed that same surrender. With the hymn filling the church, Ty bowed his head and prayed. Please help her, Lord. She needs to forgive me as much as I need to be forgiven.
The ponderous hymn droned to a close. Ty usually appreciated the gravity of it, but today he felt burdened. The church felt too crowded, too full of goodness and hope, so he slipped out the door before the congregation sang the final “amen.” He couldn’t do anything for Josie except win the race, so he headed to the livery to see Wayne. Hungry for silence, he walked the long way instead of cutting through town. When he arrived at the livery barn, he felt steadier.
Wayne saw him first. “What can I do for you, sir?”
“Sir?” Ty laughed. “It’s me—”
“Ty Donner!” Wayne crossed the barn, shook Ty’s hand and clapped him on the back. The livery owner was as strong as ever, though his hair had signs of gray. “When’d you get out?”
“A few weeks ago.”
“It’s about time.” Wayne shook his head. “You paid a terrible price for shooting a horse thief. Do you need a place to stay? How about a job? How long are you staying, anyhow?”
Ty grinned. “You always did ask a lot of questions.”
“So answer ’em.”
“I’m working for the Brights, and I’m staying as long as it takes to help Josie get on her feet.”
Wayne’s expression sobered. “The Bright women have had a hard time, first Jeremiah and then Nate. Josie’s working herself to the bone.”
“That’s going to change,” Ty answered. “I’m working for them now. If I can win the Maze, Josie can restock and hire decent help.”
Wayne raised his brows. “The Maze, huh? What are you riding?”
“Smoke.”
“Well, how do you do!” the man exclaimed. “It’s going to be a glory of a horse race.”
“Where do I sign up?” Ty asked.
“Follow me.”
Wayne led him to the back room he used for an office, opened a ledger and wrote Ty’s name and the date. The race didn’t require an entry fee, which meant there would be a wide range of horses and riders. Ty craned his neck to see the list of names, but Wayne’s printing looked like chicken scratches. He gave up and asked, “Who all is riding?”
Wayne went down the list, describing every horse and rider. Ty recognized most of them, but two stood out. Grant Harper, an Englishman, bred Arabians in addition to running cattle. He’d be riding to win, and he had horses that could do it. The second name made Ty see red. Obie Jones had tossed his hat into the ring, but he hadn’t listed a horse.
“What’s Obie riding?” Ty asked.
“He said he was still sorti
ng that out.”
The more information Ty had, the more prepared he’d be if Obie caused trouble. “Where’s he living these days?”
“Dyer’s Boardinghouse.”
Ty’s nose wrinkled. “Is it as bad I remember?”
“Worse.”
The Dyers were known for bad food, dirt and fleas. Ty would have been stuck there if he hadn’t hired on with Josie.
Wayne crossed his arms. “I hear you ran Obie off the Bright place.”
“That’s right.”
“I’m glad you did.” Wayne got a faraway look. “Winnie and I go way back. If Jeremiah hadn’t come back from the war, I’d have swept her off her feet.”
Ty knew the feeling. He’d do anything for Josie…anything at all. “If you hear talk about Obie, let me know.”
“Will do.” Wayne indicated a pot on a round stove. “Got coffee if you want it.”
“No, thanks.”
The men shook hands and Ty left the barn. He wanted to be back for the closing hymn, so he cut through town. The route took him past the Dyer place and he thought of Obie. The fool could make all the threats he wanted, but Ty intended to win the Maze.
As the church came into view, Ty walked faster. The service hadn’t let out, so he slipped through the door and into the back pew. He looked for Josie, but instead of her green hat, he saw an empty seat. It wasn’t like Josie to leave in the middle of a sermon. Worried, he went to look for her.
* * *
The coughing fit that drove Josie from church hadn’t been faked. She’d gotten a tickle in her throat the minute Reverend Hall read today’s scripture. Be ye angry, and sin not: let not the sun go down upon your wrath… She tried not to listen, but the minister had looked right at her from the start of his sermon.
We forgive because we’ve been forgiven.
He’d jumped all over the scriptures, and every word had hit like an arrow, especially the last one he’d quoted.
Let him whose slate is clean cast the first stone.
That’s when she started to cough. It was either cough or cry, and so she’d coughed enough to justify leaving and gone to the carriage. That’s where she was now…blissfully alone and angry enough to spit nails. The frustration had started when her mother forced her to ride alone with Ty. It increased when he tried to make her mad. She had gotten mad, but she didn’t want to show it. If her anger drained away, she’d be left with the hurt. She couldn’t stand the thought, but neither could she stand being angry. Determined to be done with it, she confessed to the sky. “I want to strangle Ty Donner!”
Brides of the West: Josie's Wedding DressLast Minute BrideHer Ideal Husband Page 4
