No Place for a Lady

by Vivian Vaughan

  In part, it did. She was good at controlling her mind; she had learned early and well. And it took all her knowledge, experience, and training to keep his overwhelming presence out of her thoughts moment by moment, day by miserable day.

  The nights were her downfall. She came to dread the few hours left to her for sleep. For in sleep, she dreamed. And her dreams were filled with Tyler. In her dreams she relived everything they had done together and many things they had not.

  They made love on the cushiony bed in his dugout. And she awoke on the Buckhorn Hotel’s lumpy batting-filled mattress, alone and lonely, the way Goldie had predicted.

  She dreamed about Mexico—the adobe hacienda was new and she was its mistress and he was her hero. She awoke to the grim reality that he was, in truth, the villain in her life’s story.

  She dreamed that they bathed together in the icy little stream. Afterwards they made love on the rock with the breeze drying their bodies while the heat of their love consumed them. And she awoke alone and lonely.

  In her dreams he was her lover, her protector, her life.

  In the harsh cold light of day, he was to become her nemesis. She could not leave this barbaric land soon enough. She prayed that when she did, she could leave his presence behind. She worried that that might be the hardest of all.

  The Independence Day march was fast approaching, and no word from Morley. She was certain that Morley had run away from their abusive home. But, as was too often the case, he had become like the father he hated, and she must stop that. For the sake of Carlita and the children, and for Morley’s sake.

  Two days before the march, when he still hadn’t arrived, she resorted to a fabrication. She sent him word that she was ill. She hated to lie, especially after rebuking Tyler for doing so. But this was different, she reasoned. She must talk to her brother before she left this country, and she could think of no other way to persuade him to come to town.

  It occurred to her that she could march over to the livery, hire a rig, and ride out there. By moving from Goldie’s to the Buckhorn Hotel, she had effectively put an end to the hogwash of not being able to cross the railroad tracks. If she dared, she could come and go between the two towns as she pleased. Yes, she could walk to the livery and hire a rig and ride out to Morley’s. In fact, since her experience in Mexico, she could ride a horse. But she had never been successful at talking to Morley at the ranch. Perhaps in town, she would have better luck.

  Besides, she was reluctant to venture into the country again. It reminded her of Tyler even more than the Buck side of town did. He was a part of it, this country, and for a brief time she had been, too.

  So, two days before the march, she sent word to Morley that she had contracted some dreadful disease in Mexico and would he come to see her one last time. As an added touch, she asked to be buried in the Buckhorn Cemetery, saying she wanted to go to her final rest in a place where her beloved nieces and nephews could care for her into perpetuity.

  In truth, she never wanted to see Buckhorn, Texas, again, alive or dead. Her last sight of it would be from the window of a passenger car headed east. She certainly did not want to have to look down on it from heaven above.

  But by the time she awoke on Independence Day morning, Morley still hadn’t arrived. Dismally, she knew she shouldn’t expect him. Although the demonstration wasn’t scheduled to begin until just before noon, she dressed quickly, twisting her hair into a tight knot.

  Already celebratory shouts and laughter filtered through her windows, making her doubly eager to spend this day outside. It would be her last. After today, she would not venture outside the hotel again until she boarded a train bound for Boston.

  She wasn’t concerned about running into Tyler today. He knew about the demonstration, and he could be no more eager to see her, than she, him. But after today, if they succeeded in rejoining the town, he would be allowed to cross the tracks at will. So after today, she would stay indoors. She could not, would not, chance meeting him on the street. His presence in her dreams was hard enough to bear.

  Then as she watched the growing number of revelers from her window, her hands stilled on the black straw bonnet she had but lifted to her head. There he was.

  Morley. Seeing him, her heart lurched, for he reminded her of Tyler. Which was absurd, since they looked nothing alike. But they were alike. In one momentous way they were exactly alike—they were the only two people on earth she had ever loved. Truly, truly loved.

  Her last image of Tyler was burned into her brain. He left her on the back steps of Goldie’s, after she refused to allow him to accompany her upstairs.

  “Well, Maddie, I guess this is it.”

  She struggled to hold back her tears, now, recalling how hard it had been to keep from crying then. She was so full of them, of the sadness and the already-creeping loneliness, that she hadn’t dared reply. Instead, she turned and fled up the steps. Where he had gone, what he had done, she didn’t know. To prevent hearing his name, she moved to the Buckhorn Hotel that very afternoon.

  The move hadn’t prevented her wondering where he was, though, whether he was in his dugout, whether he had returned to Mexico to recapture his cattle. She tried not to worry about him. But María had betrayed them once. Would someone else betray him? Would he die down there and she never know?

  It had occurred to her one morning upon dragging herself out of a stupor induced by an unusually poignant dream that she didn’t know anything about him. Not really. They had never discussed Susan, and why her death had devastated him. She didn’t know where he grew up, where he went to school, whether he had brothers or sisters or aunts—

  She didn’t know anything about him except that he could be tender and selfless and passionate—and that she loved him.

  Dismally, she realized that she would always love him. Whether she was buried in Buckhorn or Boston, she would go to her grave loving Tyler Grant.

  “You don’t look all that sickly,” Morley accused when she opened the door to him. “Figured you was pullin’ some sort of stunt, after what happened in Mexico.”

  Her heart lurched. “What happened in Mexico?” she echoed. Had Tyler revealed intimacies that should never have happened in the first place? Before Morley could say more, she charged ahead. “Whatever happened—everything that happened—it’s your fault. If you hadn’t left me out there…”

  “Whoa, now, Maddie.”

  He sounded so much like Tyler, it startled her. She regained quickly. “I apologize for the fabrication, Morley. But the truth is, I had to talk to you, and I knew you wouldn’t come just to talk. I’m flattered that you would come to see me on my deathbed. Even if you did wait until time was short.” Picking up the timepiece from her dresser, she flipped it open.

  “Papa’s?” Morley’s tone was harsh.

  She glanced up to see him lost in thought. “I keep it to remind me that men are no damned good.” She should have consulted it more in recent weeks, she thought, angry with herself. “That’s what I want to talk to you about.”

  “No need bringin’ up that inheritance again, Maddie. I haven’t changed my mind, an’ I’m not fixin’ to. I’m prepared to pay your way to Boston, though, if you still want to go—”

  “If I still want to go? Why shouldn’t I want to return to…to civilization?”

  “Love sometimes civilizes the most heathen place.”

  “Love?” A lecture on love from Morley? Regrouping, she turned away, lest he see the truth. “Yes, I want to return to Boston, but that isn’t what I called you into town to discuss. In Mexico, Tyler brought up something that—”

  “I’m not here to listen to Tyler Grant’s—”

  She swirled on him. “Damn you, Morley, shut up and listen. I’m talking about you. And me. And Mama and Papa.”

  His face turned florid. “I refuse to talk about that, any of it, especially that damned old man. If there’s nothin’ else on your mind, I’ll wish you a safe trip.”

  She ran to the door,
flattened her back against it, as though she could hold him in the room by sheer force. “There is more, Morley. I know now why you left home.”

  “Bully for you.”

  “Tyler said it first. He said my fear of marriage stems from the same thing that drove you away from Boston.”

  “What’s he settin’ himself up like, some goddamn fortune teller?” But the color had drained from his face.

  “He’s right, Morley. Papa was a mean, hateful, violent old man. He always was. That’s why you left.”

  He glared at her. She rushed ahead, desperate to say what was on her mind before he set her aside and charged out of her life. Again.

  “Papa told me you died at sea. I was heartbroken. You left me alone, all alone in that house with him…and with her. I couldn’t stop crying. So, he told me you died at sea. That a sailor brought word. Do you know what I did? I went to the docks everyday, rain, snow, sleet. I went and stood there and looked out at sea and cried. I loved you with all my heart. You were all I ever had—the only person I ever loved or who ever loved me. And you left me all alone.”

  “Damnation, Maddie!” He turned away. “You couldn’t expect me to’ve stayed around.”

  “You could have said good-bye. You could have told me where you were going. You could have written.”

  “I did.”

  “Once. Papa hid the letter. I found it in the lockbox after he died. Three months ago, Morley. That was the first time I knew you were alive. Three months ago.”

  Morley’s arms went slack. He turned back to the room, crossed to the window, stared out at his town. “I’m sorry, Maddie. I’m really sorry. I didn’t know they told you that. I knew you’d worry. I hated to leave you there. But hell…” He paused, drew a deep breath. “I was only sixteen. I couldn’t have taken care of you. I could barely take care of myself. And I couldn’t take it any longer. That may sound weak, but it’s God’s own truth. I couldn’t take it. I’d have ended up killin’ him.”

  “What about Mama? She had to take it year after year.”

  When he turned, she could tell the fight had gone out of him. He looked more like her brother than he had since she arrived. “It was her choice,” he said.

  “You can’t believe that. He broke her body and her spirit. She didn’t want that.”

  “Then why wouldn’t she leave? Tell me that, Maddie. Why wouldn’t she leave?”

  “She couldn’t.”

  “She could have. I offered to help; I begged her to leave.”

  Madolyn felt as though someone had struck her between the shoulders, knocking the air out of her lungs. “When?”

  “First time was before I left. I begged her to come with me, to bring you and come with me. Together, we could have made it. But she wouldn’t. Said it wouldn’t be right to leave him; it wouldn’t be right to take you away from your home.”

  “My home?” The words quivered out.

  Morley slumped to the edge of the bed, where he sat with elbows propped on his knees. He stared at the bare pine floor. “I tried again after Grant and I settled here. I sent her money in care of Grandmother Sewell, so the old man wouldn’t know about it. I sent directions and enough money for the two of you to come out here and live with me. But do you know what she did? She sent the money back, thankin’ me, but sayin’ she was fine, that things had worked out, and that you were fine, too.”

  Madolyn sank to the bed beside him. “If only I had known.”

  “What could you have done? She wouldn’t have listened to you, either.”

  “I could have left before I became a miserable old maid.”

  Slipping to his knees, Morley knelt before her. He crossed big callused hands over her lap and peered into her face. When she looked in his eyes, she saw her brother—concerned, loving, sharing her shame and agony. Sharing, at last, after all these years of bearing it alone.

  “Oh, Morley, isn’t it terrible? Look what he’s done to us.”

  “To you, little girl.” He used the appellation he had teased her with so many years before. She’d hated it, then, insisting she wasn’t little. And she grew up to prove that point. “He didn’t do nothin’ to me,” Morley added.

  “Yes, he did. You’re like him in so many ways. You can’t call him father; well, your children don’t call you father. I don’t know whether you beat Carlita, but she’s as submissive as Mama. You married your mother, and you treat her like Papa—”

  “It’s different. Their culture’s different, damn it.”

  She squeezed his hands. “You could have changed that. You, of all people, know what she needs—respect and kindness…and your name. Obviously you love her. Why else would you have stayed with her fourteen years and fathered six children?”

  “There’re other reasons for a man and woman—”

  “I lived at the House of Negotiable Love, Morley. I’m aware of the reasons men and women…” Regrouping, she returned to the topic at hand. “If you didn’t love Carlita, you wouldn’t keep her around. And since you do, for her sake, for the children’s sake, and for your sake, you must marry her.”

  Morley shook his head. “Grant’s right, you’re one meddlin’ female.”

  “I’m also right.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Maybe? Now, there’s progress. But the truth is, I don’t have time to bring out the best in you. You’ll have to do it yourself. I don’t want to leave until you’ve come to grips with things, but if you don’t hurry, I might have to.”

  “What’re you leavin’ for?”

  “I…I have a life back there.”

  “Some life. No family. No home. No one to love.”

  “I have the women at the center.”

  “I don’t reckon you’ve taken to sleepin’ with ’em.”

  “Morley!”

  “Likely you won’t get half the pleasure out of marchin’ around town with a bunch of spinsters shoutin’ things like ‘Down with men!’ as you would snugglin’ up to Tyler Grant.”

  “Morley!”

  “Go ahead, Maddie, work yourself into a righteous rage, but you can’t deny the truth.”

  “I shall never give up my work for women’s rights. I’ll thank you to remember that.”

  “Okay, okay.” He grinned. “Just thought I’d give you a little of the tongue-lashin’ you’ve been givin’ me.”

  “Oh, Morley.” She swiped at the tears running down her cheeks. “I didn’t come out here to meddle in your business.”

  “I know, little girl. Come here.” He pulled her into his arms and she sobbed against his chest; Morley, her brother who had always consoled her, dried her tears.

  She was no longer a little girl. She was a grown woman, a spinster. And he was right, she did love to snuggle up to Tyler…and so much more. If only…

  “You weren’t really meddlin’,” Morley was saying. “Like you said, we’re your family.” He pulled her back and wiped her tears with the rough pads of his thumbs. “And you’re our family. Carlita and the kids, well, they think you hung the moon.”

  She grinned.

  “And there’s another feller aroun’ somewhere who feels the same way, ’less I miss my guess. Bad as I hate to admit it, he’d make a hell of a good husband for my baby sister.”

  “Oh, Morley.” The tears flowed again.

  “He asked you, didn’t he?”

  She nodded.

  “And you’re runnin’ away. Why?”

  “Why? After what we know about marriage, how can you ask?”

  “So, marriage is all right for me an’ Carlita, but not for you. That doesn’t make one damned bit of sense.”

  “You and Carlita have a houseful of children. I don’t.” Not yet, she thought; pray God, she wasn’t carrying Tyler’s baby.

  “Maddie, Maddie, don’t run away from life. That man has it bad for you. I saw that when he came out there and cold-cocked me for not gettin’ your inheritance.”

  “There you go. There’s your answer. He’s violent.”


  “Hell, Maddie, he’s no more violent than the next man.”

  “I know what the next man does, thank you, and I don’t want any part of it. Besides, he came out there to get ’Pache Prancer. Don’t try to make things what they aren’t.”

  “You’re wrong about that. He came to confront me about bein’ so hard on you. And I have been. And I’m sorry.”

  She smiled, wanly.

  “Seein’ you tore me in two, Maddie. I wanted to take you in and make you a part of my family and never let you go. But I was scared, little girl. Scared to death of relivin’ the past.”

  “That’s how I feel, Morley. Now you understand.”

  “I understand, but I’ll still say you’re dead wrong about Grant. He’s in love with you, Maddie. You oughta marry him.”

  “I can’t,” she repeated, wishing all the time that she could. “In Mexico, I saw…I saw him slap a woman. He knocked her to the ground and she screamed.” The memory was still the clearest of any in her mind, and the most terrifying. It was raw, like a new wound, and she feared it would never heal.

  “Musta had a damned good reason,” Morley was saying.

  “Spoken like a true man.”

  “Hell, Maddie, cut us some slack, will you? In straightforward terms, why did Grant slap that woman?”

  “She…she told the Rurales where we were.”

  Morley’s green eyes hardened. “You’re holdin’ that against him? The wench deserved more’n a slap.”

  “Tyler said, uh, he didn’t slap her because she did it; it was…she wouldn’t tell him what she told the Rurales and—”

  “You don’t understand that? You’d have to be a dunce not—”

  “I understand, Morley. But I’m scared. Too scared to take a chance that he might be…like Papa.”

  “He isn’t like that old man. I’d bet my life on it. And you aren’t like Mama. You aren’t submissive, Maddie. You’d never let him get the upper hand, even if he tried.”