A male laugh—deep and satisfied—came from ten feet behind her. She’d know Ty’s voice anywhere, anytime. Furious, she faced him. “What’s so funny?”
“Us.”
“I’m not laughing.”
His eyes twinkled even brighter. “So yell instead. It’ll feel good.”
“No.” She hesitated. “Where have you been?”
“Signing up for the Maze.” He picked up a rock and offered it to her. “Want to throw it? You can pretend you’re aiming at me.”
“I don’t care about the rock.” But she did. She wanted to throw the rock as hard as she could, and Ty knew it. He knew her better than anyone, a truth that put a lump in her throat.
He touched her shoulder. “Josie—”
“Don’t touch me!”
When he lowered his hand, she started to cry. The gesture showed that he understood…and he cared. She saw the blue eyes that made her shiver, the jaw that jutted when he was being stubborn, but she didn’t see the man who left her to chase a bunch of horse thieves. She saw someone else…someone who’d learned to listen. She thought of all the nights the sun had gone down on her anger. Then she thought of the wedding dress and made a decision. Today she’d take the dress out of the wardrobe. She’d forgive Ty for hurting her, or she’d get rid of the dress that embodied her lost dreams.
Ty offered her a bandanna. She wiped her eyes, then said, “I want to go home.”
“Sure.”
He helped her into the carriage and off they rode. Josie remained silent, but her thoughts ran in circles. What would happen when she saw the dress? Would she hate Ty even more, or would she find peace? She didn’t know, but she resolved to find out. Today she’d examine her heart and maybe she’d know what to do.
The spring sun warmed her face as they bounced down the rut-filled road. She stole glances at Ty, noticing how the cuts from the fight with Obie had healed, but mostly she stared at the winding road. On occasion she sensed his gaze on her cheek. The carriage wheels usually squeaked, but today they rolled in silence. Ty must have greased them, a chore she’d ignored. She wanted to ignore him, but she couldn’t stop looking at his hands holding on to the reins, or his boots on the floorboard, slightly apart and worn from work. The silence thickened until they reached the front of the house. The instant he stopped the rig, she climbed down from the seat. Her petticoat caught on something sharp, tore but didn’t come loose. The tears she’d stifled threatened to break loose.
“Hold on,” Ty ordered. “Let me help.”
“I can do it.” She tugged on the petticoat, but it was caught on a spring. The harder she pulled, the more tightly it wedged.
Ty came to her side of the carriage, reached over the wheel and freed the cloth. Intending to politely thank him, she looked into his eyes. The courteous words melted on her tongue. Instead she finally yelled at him. “I can’t stand it! Why did you come back? Why do you do this to me!”
“I don’t mean to do anything.” He took her gloved hand in his. “I care about you, Josie. I always have—”
“Don’t say that!”
His fingers stroked hers. “This hardness between us has to stop, and it has to stop today. Check on your mom and then come to the barn.”
“Why?”
“You and I need to take a ride.”
“Where to?”
“Boulder Gorge…the place where I shot Brant Scudder. I want to forget it, but I can’t.”
Josie knew about memories that refused to be laid aside. She looked into Ty’s eyes, saw a plea and thought of the wedding dress. She’d intended to open the wardrobe immediately, but Ty deserved to be heard. “All right,” she said. “I’ll meet you at the barn.”
He climbed back into the carriage and snapped the reins. Sighing, she went into the house, told her mother she and Ty were taking a ride, then retreated to her room where she opened the wardrobe. Instead of retrieving her split skirt, she stared for a moment at the muslin package holding her wedding dress. She didn’t know which frightened her more—reliving old memories or making new ones on today’s ride. The dress could wait. The ride couldn’t, so she put on her riding clothes and went to meet Ty.
Chapter Five
After leaving Josie at the house, Ty went to the barn to saddle Smoke and a brown mare named Maggie. Josie had always liked that name… She’d mentioned it when they’d talked about naming their children. Their first son would have been named after her father; the second would have been Ty Junior. If he hadn’t gone after the Scudders, by now they’d have had two babies, maybe three. They would have—
“Stop it,” he muttered to himself.
He lifted a saddle onto Maggie’s back, scowling as he worked. He had no time for self-pity. Today he had just one wish. He wanted to talk to Josie…really talk…about that awful day. With its ugly memories, Boulder Gorge struck him as a fitting spot to clear the air. God had forgiven Ty’s sins and he knew it. Josie was still holding a grudge, and he hoped today he could convince her to let it go.
He finished with Maggie, then saddled Smoke. As he led the horses out of the barn, he saw Josie walking up the path in a split skirt and a wide brimmed hat. Even if she called him awful names, it would be preferable to the cold civility he saw on her face now. Even better would be her forgiveness.
She came up to Maggie and scratched the horse’s ears. “I’m ready.”
Ty helped her mount, then climbed on Smoke. He led the way to the trail to the gorge, commenting on the grass and water conditions to pass the time. The conversation took them all the way to the edge of a ravine that zigzagged for miles. From a distance, it looked like a knife wound. Ty reined Smoke to a stop and climbed off.
“This is it,” he said to Josie.
She slid off Maggie and handed him the reins. He tied both horses to a bush blooming with Indian paintbrush, propped his hands on his hips and stared at the slash in the ground. “This is where I killed Brant Scudder.”
“Nate told me about it.”
“I’ve thought about this place every day, but it’s the first time I’ve come back since I got out. It looks the same…feels the same.”
“Some memories are burned into us. We change, but they don’t.”
“That’s a fact.” He looked at the bottom of the gorge. Today a streambed held a trickle of water, but five years ago it had been all sand and rock. Looking west, he pointed down the ravine. “Do you see those boulders?”
“I do.”
“I was standing right here.” He drew an X in the dirt with his toe. “The Scudders were riding straight at us. Nate yelled something and one of them fired. I hit the dirt and fired back. Everything went crazy after that.”
“Nate said the shooting lasted five minutes.”
“I don’t know.” Ty shook his head. “It felt like seconds before the Scudders ran off. Three of them were in a pack and riding fast. Brant was trailing behind and firing his pistol over his shoulder at Nate and me. Nate stopped shooting. He said to let him go, but I had to get in one last shot. I should have listened to Nate.”
Josie said nothing. She just stared at the boulders.
So did Ty. “Brant fell off his horse next to those rocks. His brothers were long gone, so he crawled for cover. He was still alive when I rode up, and do you know what I did?”
“No.”
“I didn’t do a blessed thing. I stood there like a king, all puffed up and justified because the Scudders had stolen from me. Nate came up behind me. He saw the kid was dying and gave him water. He prayed with him, too. I wish I’d done that. Instead I told Brant he could rot for all I cared.”
Josie’s breath caught.
“Yeah, I know.” Ty grimaced with shame. “It was an awful thing to say. Brant was younger than me. He nee
ded comfort—even forgiveness—and I’d have spat on him if Nate hadn’t been there.” Heavy with guilt, he turned to Josie. “You begged me not to go that day. You were worried about the wedding, but there was more to it. I think you were afraid of what I’d do.”
“I was,” she admitted.
“If I’d listened to you, Brant would be alive. He deserved to go to jail, but he didn’t deserve to die. I wanted to think I was justified in killing him, but I wasn’t. We all mess up, just in different ways. I hurt you the same way Brant hurt me. He stole my horses…I stole your future. That’s why we’re here today, Josie. I want you to know that I understand what that day cost.” To be sure she heard his next words, he took her hand. “I’m asking you to forgive me for everything I did wrong.”
He needed her to say something, anything, but she was staring blindly into the gorge. Finally she tightened her fingers around his. Their hands made a fist of sorts, though whether it signaled unity or anger he didn’t know. Nothing stirred. Not a blade of grass. She released his hand slowly, as if she didn’t realize she’d been holding it, then she pressed her palm to her chest and faced him. “Do you know what that day was like for me?”
“I’ve imagined it.”
“The whole time you were gone, I prayed you’d come back alive. I wasn’t even thinking of the wedding. I was thinking of you.” Her voice barely rose above a whisper. “Do know how long you were gone?”
“Too long.” He and Nate had taken Brant’s body to town. They’d talked to the law, then gone to the saloon and each downed a shot of whiskey. Ty had raised a toast to justice. The irony of that moment still stung. So did the memory of arriving at the Bright ranch in the light of a full moon and seeing Josie pacing in the yard. “I know it was late,” he admitted.
“It was after midnight!”
He remembered, too. When he’d ridden into the yard, she’d hoisted her skirts and run to him. He’d slid off Smoke and into her arms.
Josie glared at him. “I was too relieved to be angry. Do you remember what you said?”
“I remember kissing you.”
She blinked, but her eyes stayed hard. “You said you were sorry to scare me, but you’d do it all again.”
“I wouldn’t do it now.”
“Now doesn’t matter.” She looked at him as if he were stupid. “We invited the whole town to watch us get married. My mother baked our cake. It was the last one she ever made because of her eyes. I spent hours making the dress, not because I love to sew but because I loved you. I’d never been happier in my life…then Nate came to the church. Not you…”
“I wanted to go myself, but you know what happened. The sheriff arrested me on my way there.”
“It wouldn’t have mattered.” She stared back at the gorge. “The damage was done, and things got worse with every day that passed.”
“Because of the trial.”
“Yes.” She clipped the word. “People offered condolences instead of congratulations. I felt like a widow without ever being a wife.” Her voice quavered. “And it didn’t stop… For six months people asked me about you…about us. The rude ones asked if I was going to wait for you.”
He’d wondered about that himself. “What did you say?”
“I said no.” She faced him with a bit of a smirk. “That led to some very nice invitations.”
For five years Ty had wondered about something. “Did that jerk Paul Whitman come calling?”
“Paul’s not a jerk.”
“So he did.”
“Yes,” she admitted. “But I didn’t love him. I couldn’t, and that’s what hurt the most. I wanted to be your wife, not his! I loved you—” Tears welled in her eyes. “And I can’t seem to love anyone else.”
“Ah, Josie.” He reached for her, but she turned her back, perhaps to hide her face and the threat of tears. He ached to comfort her, but he had nothing more to give. He’d done what he’d come to Rock Creek to do. He’d asked Josie for forgiveness. He wouldn’t beg, but he could hope she’d find the grace to let go of the hurt. It wouldn’t happen today, so he went to the horses. “I’m ready when you are.”
With her chin high, she walked to Maggie. “I’m ready.”
She climbed on the mare, and Ty mounted Smoke. As they turned to the trail, Josie stopped the horse in its tracks. Ty reined in Smoke. “What is it?”
“I want you to know, I heard everything you said.”
“That’s a start.”
“Maybe.” She hesitated. “I want to be done with these feelings, but I’m like a bug in a jar. I can’t get out.”
“It’s like prison.”
“Yes.”
He risked a smile. “There’s a sure cure for feeling trapped, and that’s a hard run on a fast horse. Want to race home?”
A bit of sass flashed in her eyes, and she kicked Maggie into a run.
Ty gave her a head start, mostly because he wanted to watch her hair blowing in the wind. He loved her. He always would, but the future remained uncertain. He gave Smoke the bit and off they went. Chasing after her seemed fitting. Catching up to her was even better. Side by side, they galloped like the kids they used to be. Whether it was the end of the past or the start of the future, Ty didn’t know. But he hoped it would be both.
* * *
Josie stepped into the house with her thoughts in a whirl. She’d left Ty in the barn to tend to the horses, and he’d told her not to bother with a basket for his supper. She’d never known him to skip a meal, but she hadn’t argued. They both needed breathing room, and Josie would be unsettled until she looked at the wedding dress. She didn’t want to speak to anyone, not even her mother, but Mama called to her as she came in. “Josie? Is that you?”
“It’s me, Mama.”
“How was the ride?”
“I don’t know.” Her voice wobbled. She stepped into the front room where she saw Mama knitting as usual. “I’m kind of tired. I thought I’d go to my room and rest.”
“That’s a fine idea.”
Her mother no doubt wanted to hear about her talk with Ty, but Josie had nothing to say until she saw the dress. Oddly nervous, she went to her room, closed the door and approached the wardrobe that once belonged to her grandmother. Heavy and made of mahogany, it had held Josie’s clothes for as long as she could remember. Slowly, as if approaching a dove instead of a piece of wood, she opened the double doors and looked at the top shelf. There she saw the muslin-wrapped wedding dress, neatly folded and tied with a piece of twine.
She remembered putting the dress on as plainly as she recalled taking it off. Both times she’d been in this room. In the morning she’d dressed with her sisters. Anne had done her hair, and her parents had driven Josie, Anne and Scarlett to the church in the freshly polished carriage. She’d felt like a princess about to become a queen, but then Nate broke the news about Ty. She’d wanted to see him immediately, but she couldn’t stand the thought of walking into the jail in her wedding gown. Her father took her home, and she’d taken refuge in the room where she stood now.
Before removing the dress, she’d stared at herself in the oval mirror still standing in the corner. One by one, she’d undone the buttons, thinking of the wedding they wouldn’t have. Next she’d slipped out of the sleeves. The dress had fallen at her feet in a fluttering of silk. Covered by petticoats and a chemise, she’d folded the dress and wrapped it in the muslin. She’d looked at the muslin many times, but not once had she looked at the dress.
With shaking fingers, she lifted the package and set it on her bed. She pulled on the twine and the bow unraveled. She set it aside, unwrapped the covering and lifted the dress to the light. Even wrinkled, it glowed white in the sun. She stared at the lace she’d stitched into place, the white sash she’d embroidered with roses, then she held the dress t
o her shoulders and looked at herself in the tall mirror.
Instead of herself as she was now, she saw the seventeen-year-old girl who’d expected life to be easy. That girl hadn’t been spoiled, but she was naive. The Bright family had always had enough. The bounty showed in the wedding dress. The silk came from a San Francisco dressmaker, and the pearl buttons had cost a small fortune.
Most of Josie’s friends made special dresses for their weddings, but their gowns were made to be worn again as their Sunday best. Josie’s dress had been different. As a girl she’d seen a white wedding dress in the Godey’s Lady’s Book. A white gown as a symbol of purity went back to Queen Victoria, though some Americans credited the tradition to Eleanor Custis, George Washington’s niece. In addition to a white dress, Eleanor had a worn a veil. The story went that her future husband first glimpsed her through a window covered with a lace curtain, and she wore the veil to capture that moment of “love at first sight.”
Josie had planned to wear a veil, but she loved the dress most. Holding it against her body, she looked at the short sleeves that puffed like clouds. The front of the bodice was flat across her torso, while the back gathered to make a small train. A white sash was tied into a bow, and the tails would have fluttered as she walked.
The dress was as lovely as ever, but Josie could barely remember the girl who’d made it. She’d been so young…so naive. When Ty confessed concerns about money, she’d blithely told him not to worry. Now she knew that cattle died and mortgages came due.
“I was such a child,” she said to the mirror. Ty hadn’t been much older. They’d both been kids, but he’d understood money in a way she hadn’t. As a boy he’d gone hungry. As a man he’d been determined to take care of her. He’d gone after the horses for a better reason than pride. He really had done it for them, though he’d also done it against her wishes.
Brides of the West: Josie's Wedding DressLast Minute BrideHer Ideal Husband Page 5
