by Cassie Hayes
Kicking back next to the fire, he watched the stars come out through the thinning leaves. Bonnie was always fascinated with his life outdoors. “What’s it like sleeping under the stars,” she once asked.
He was taken aback for a minute but then remembered she was a city girl. He did his best to describe the feeling but nothing could compare to doing it. The woman had a way with words, and if she just experienced it, he had no doubt she could do it justice. Maybe he should bring her out here someday…
What?! Where did that idea come from? First of all, this was his place. Second of all, she wouldn’t be interested in riding all day only to sleep on the hard ground.
Would she?
As he thought on it, he rather suspected she might. She had the brains of a businessman but the heart of an adventurer, and he had to admit that she’d turned things upside down. His finances had never been better accounted for and his cabin was starting to look almost like a home. He didn’t even want to think about how he’d already had to loosen his belt two notches from her cooking.
Speaking of food… He pulled the spit from the fire and picked a hunk of meat from the hind leg. Popping it in his mouth, he grimaced. This time he knew. It tasted the same as any other time he’d killed a rabbit on the trail, but it didn’t compare to what Bonnie could do with it.
He could almost see her cooking a pot of stew with the critter right there across the fire from him. She’d smile up at him prettily as she dropped a wild onion in the concoction, and the smell would make him think he’d died and gone to heaven.
“Tell me a story, Bart,” she would say, and he’d oblige. Maybe he’d add a little color, maybe not, but he’d make sure she ended up laughing. There wasn’t a happier sound in the world than Bonnie laughing. Just thinking of it made him smile.
There was no doubt about it, he missed his Bonnie Blue.
Chapter 18
Bonnie laid in bed until light peeked in through the small window in the bedroom. Since Bart wasn’t there, she didn’t have any reason to get up early. Of course that didn’t mean she wasn’t awake before dawn.
Since her arrival, she’d grown accustomed to his light snoring in the other room, and now that it was gone, she could barely sleep. Every sound set her on edge, wondering if it was a pack of wild wolves or brazen bandits. At some point during the night, she crept out of her room to grab the shotgun. The sound of an owl hooting sent her scurrying back to her room.
She slept only marginally better with the gun within reach. It still felt strange to be alone in the cabin. She supposed she’d get used to it — she’d have to, because she was certain her brothers-in-law wouldn’t want her moving in. They’d send her packing back home to Beckham before they’d allow that.
Lying there in the dark, she wondered where Bart was, and if he was eating enough. He was rail thin when she arrived and her first order of business had been to put some meat on his bones. It was hard to tell under his work clothes but his face appeared fuller since her arrival and this pleased her.
What was she going to make for breakfast? Never in her life had she cooked for just herself. She wasn’t sure if she even could. Everything sounded like too much trouble for just her. And the thought of sitting at that tiny table all by herself…
She was going to miss Bart’s stories, that much was certain. The notebook she was using to document all his adventures was already half-full. By the time he left the ranch for good, they’d have a bookcase worth.
Her gut twisted up at the thought of the day he would eventually leave so she pushed it away. Fear, she figured. There was no need to be afraid. She’d be just fine on her own. Her parents had always complained about how independent she was, and she would finally be able to put that particular trait to good use.
Lying there in the dim light of the new day, she worked up a plan. She’d have Bart teach her how to shoot all kinds of guns, and she’d practice until she was a sharpshooter. She would take over some of the brothers’ chores, such as milking the cows, in exchange for any chores she couldn’t do. Maybe she’d set up that sewing business, going to Wiggieville once a week to take orders and deliver finished items.
And she’d learn to cook for one.
~ * ~ * ~
Once Libby and Gwen mastered — well, at least had a basic grasp of — cooking, it was time to move on to sewing. Bonnie worried that Gwen would give up after the first time she pricked her finger, but she was pleasantly surprised that her sister seemed fiercely determined to learn the skill. She’d never even had to thread a needle back home.
“I don’t know why you made such a fuss, Bonnie,” Gwen said proudly holding up her practice swatch. The hem she’d sewn was not only crooked, but the stitches were all different lengths and tension. “Sewing is simple!” Bonnie bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself from laughing.
As usual, Libby concentrated hard on her work, which was much better than Gwen’s, but she still ended up dissatisfied. The poor child — woman, Bonnie reminded herself — was always so hard on herself. She hoped Nate wasn’t adding to her sister’s insecurities. She honestly doubted this was the case, but if he was, she’d have something to say about it, regardless if Libby was his wife.
“Libby, sweetheart, you’ll be making the most beautiful dresses in no time,” she soothed, patting Libby’s back. Libby smiled up at her uncertainly and went back to her work.
By afternoon, they insisted on putting their new skills to work on curtains for Bonnie’s cabin.
“It’s just scandalous that anybody could peep into your windows,” Gwen exclaimed. Bonnie and Libby exchanged looks and burst out laughing. Gwen frowned at them. “What’s so funny?”
Libby was the first to catch her breath. “You? You of all people saying something is scandalous?” That brought on another round of giggles.
Gwen looked perturbed for a moment, then joined them. “How silly!”
The sound of a carriage outside sobered them up quickly. They’d only met a few people in town so far; it seemed unlikely anyone would come calling.
As much as Bonnie wanted to follow Gwen to the door, she and Libby stayed put at the table. It was Gwen’s house, after all, and they were guests.
But the moment a woman’s voice said, “I’m here to see Walton about our baby,” she leapt to her feet. Libby looked confused and slightly terrified.
Gwen handled the situation better than Bonnie would ever have imagined. She told the strange woman, who gave every appearance of being a lady of the night, that she would tell her husband where to find her. After shutting the door on the woman’s gawking face, Gwen scurried into her room and stayed there for some time.
Libby moved to follow but Bonnie held her back. “She needs to think right now,” she whispered. But she wasn’t about to leave her sister alone. So they sat in silence and sewed.
Bonnie’s heart broke for Gwen. She was so happy with Walt, and she was trying so hard to be a good wife. Now this. She supposed that was the good thing about not being in love with your spouse — there were no expectations, so there were no disappointments.
Finally, Gwen emerged and announced she would be staying with Bonnie, to which she immediately agreed. It would be nice to have someone in the house with her, though she wasn’t happy about the reason.
~ * ~ * ~
Bonnie stared at the stove, wondering what to make herself while she waited for Gwen to have it out with Walt. Nothing sounded good. Without someone to cook for, she lost all interest in food. She ended up slathering jam on a stale biscuit and calling it good.
Normally any free time she managed to scrape together during the day was filled with projects, from sewing Gwen’s dress to baking to lessons to cleaning. But sitting there waiting for Gwen to arrive, all she could do was stare into the fire. Her eyes drifted over to the pile of wood Bart had left for her and she sighed.
A soft knock pulled her out of her stupor and soon she was comforting and advising Gwen on her marriage. It was exhausting. Besid
es, what did she know about love and marriage? Both her sisters seemed to think she and Bart were the perfect couple. If they only knew!
It had been years since Bonnie had shared a bed with Gwen, but it comforted them both. Gwen didn’t even complain about how small or how hard it was, just crawled in and curled up against her big sister.
Bonnie woke up once in the middle of the night to the sound of Gwen’s quiet sobs, but let her be. She was devastated, not only by the prostitute supposedly carrying Walt’s child, but that he’d called her by the wrong name. And worst of all, he’d called her Gertie, the name of the woman who spread all the lies about the Blue sisters back in Beckham! Talk about rubbing salt in the wound. She had a mind to give him a tongue-lashing for it.
Poor Gwen! If that’s what being in love was all about, Bonnie was glad she wasn’t in love.
Chapter 19
Bart didn’t want to push Roamer so he decided to break up the trip back to the ranch into two days. He was in no hurry to return because he hoped a little distance would put his current situation into perspective.
Most of the day, Bart walked next to his horse, only riding when Roamer wanted to move a little faster. All that walking gave him a lot of time to think, not to mention sore feet.
He was a drifter, always on the move. That freedom defined him. But something was different inside him. Something had changed and he didn’t know what. He was supposed to want to get back out on the trail, seeing what he could see, never stopping in the same place twice. So why did he feel so weary at the thought of heading off for good?
He’d done a lot of crazy things in his life, and met some even crazier people. That was part of the allure of being a drifter. But more and more, the craziness wasn’t holding his interest. He found it…boring.
Take Winston for example, the drunk he ran into in Wiggieville. That old reprobate had doddled around the west for years, and he had some fantastical stories to tell. But get him talking about anything beyond his mostly made-up adventures, and the man was an embarrassment.
How had Winston turned out so bad? Were the years of never settling in one place to blame, or did he move around because of who he was inside? After their last conversation, Bart had no illusions about the man. He was no good.
Just as were so many others he’d met on the trail. Most of them, really. The ‘professional’ drifters, anyway. There were a bunch who just played at it for a while before finally settling in one place. All the real drifters — which was what Bart had always considered himself — laughed at those fakers, called ‘em tenderfoots…or worse.
But the more time he spent with the ‘real’ drifters, the less he liked them. He’d been raised with a solid sense of right and wrong, but most of the fellas he knew blurred the lines to their liking.
In the beginning, he was blind to it, believing in the fantasy he’d built up around the lifestyle. Then cracks started to form in the façade and he could no longer turn a blind eye to their amoral ways. Now, ten years in, he had no illusions about who his fellow drifters were, which was why he would only ride with others for a short time, never getting involved with their devilry.
Only now, as he walked alongside his faithful companion, did he wonder why he kept going. The traveling was always interesting but also tiresome. He’d met so many wonderful folks, that couldn’t be denied, but the one thing that surprised him was that people were the same no matter where he landed. There were good women, bad men and everything in between.
So why did he want to get back out there so badly? Just because he was ‘supposed’ to? He’d always prided himself on having a mind of his own, never doing what was expected of him. But as he followed the path of his past, he realized that wasn’t true.
As the youngest, everyone expected him to be the wild child, so he obliged. The night he left home, he thought everyone would be shocked, but there they were in the barn waiting to say goodbye. Out on the road, people assumed he’d move on sooner or later, and it was usually sooner.
He’d always thought he was searching for something as he drifted around. Was it possible he was running, too? Running from what others wanted him to do or be? And here he was doing it again. Walt wanted him to settle down, but Bart’s natural instinct was to run.
Nate’s comment kept tickling the back of his brain as he trudged along. You’re a grown man now and ain’t nobody can make you do nothin’ you don’t want, deep down.
It hit him like a sledgehammer. He stopped cold in his tracks, Roamer halting next to him with a snort. All this time he thought he was being his own man out there on the trail, but he was really just avoiding making any real decisions. He’d let life happen to him, instead of taking the bull by the horns and making his life what he really wanted, deep down.
Nate was right about one thing. He was a grown man. Walt couldn’t make him do anything he didn’t want to do.
It was time to prove it.
Chapter 20
The prostitute, Lela Mason, returned the next day to apologize to Gwen for lying. When she found herself in desperate straits, she remembered what a good man Walton was, and hoped she could trick him into marrying her.
Then the most amazing thing happened: Gwen, the selfish brat who never cared a whit about others, invited Lela in for tea! Bonnie was floored, and Libby looked downright scandalized.
But after they heard the poor woman’s sad tale, they all decided help her. Libby suggested she start a sewing business in Wiggieville, which gave Bonnie pause. That’s what she’d been planning for herself, but this woman and her child would need a steady income. Bonnie could just start a different business.
When Libby pointed out there were plenty of single men looking for a wife, Bonnie had to chime in. “Just make sure you're honest with whomever you choose. I'd hate for a man to marry you only to be upset that you once had a less than desirable lifestyle."
"You girls sure have some interesting ways of avoiding saying I was a whore,” Lela said good-naturedly.
Bonnie liked the woman’s candid ways. It was refreshing, after a lifetime of watching every word you said. Then Gwen started giggling hysterically.
"I was just thinking about how Mama would react if she knew we'd run away to Texas and were sitting in my new house entertaining a former whore."
Libby gasped at the word, but Bonnie gasped at the idea. “She’d have an apoplectic fit!"
Before parting ways for the night, they vowed to find a situation for Lela in Wiggieville, where no one needed to know about her past.
Naturally, Gwen didn’t need to spend the night since she and Walt made up, so Bonnie was once again left facing a cold stove with no motivation to do anything but curl up in bed and sleep.
She felt like she could sleep for days.
~ * ~ * ~
A soft knock on her door roused her from drowsing in front of the fireplace. She’d dreamt she was sleeping under a black sky filled with stars, and two warm blankets were wrapped snugly around her, keeping her warm and safe.
She shook the cobwebs from her head, wondering how blankets could keep you safe, but forgot all about it as she went to answer the door. Who could it be? Was it Bart?
Libby stood on the threshold looking worried, as usual. “I need to talk to you before Nate gets home,” she said, pushing past Bonnie and perching herself on Bart’s crate. Tears spilled down her perfect cheeks.
Good grief, another of her sisters needing emotional support. Why must she always be the rock? Why wasn’t anyone ever the rock for her?
“Oh Bonnie, everything’s wrong!”
“What do you mean everything? I thought the two of you were…” Her voice caught in her throat when she tried to say ‘in love’. Clearing her throat, she tried again, settling for, “I thought you two were fine.”
Libby wailed about Nate not loving her but maybe she loved him and how she didn’t know how she would live through such a thing. That caught Bonnie’s attention. “Live?”
“What I mean is, I don
't know how I can live my life married to a man who doesn't love me. It would be easier if I wasn't in love with him, I suppose, but… I think I am. Am I making any sense?”
All the blood in her body rushed to Bonnie’s feet, for some reason. Luckily she was standing a step away from her chair and it caught her full weight when her knees buckled. She took a deep cleansing breath and tried to still her shivering frame.
“I’d like to say not any more than usual, but in this case, you make perfect sense.”
Libby scooted closer. Bonnie wouldn’t meet her gaze or she would see something was wrong. Because something was dreadfully wrong…
“You're in love with Bart,” Libby was saying. “What's it like?”
She wasn’t in love with Bart! Impossible! If she was, she’d sentenced herself to a fate worse than marrying an old lecher. Because Libby was right; that would be horrible.
Libby was waiting for her answer. A lump formed in her throat and it wouldn’t go down. Her heart was beating faster than she could ever remember it beating. What was the question again? Why was Libby tormenting her like this?!
“Like?”
“Yes, what does it feel like? Maybe if I knew the symptoms, I'd be able to tell if I was in love with Nate or not.”
Libby went on and on about wooing and falling in love and what that should look like. It took Bonnie a few minutes for her thoughts to clear enough to hear what Libby was saying. She didn’t seem to understand what love was about.
“Then what’s it about?” she demanded.
Bonnie wasn’t sure what to say because she’d never been in love, but the words just started pouring out of her. “Well, it's about doing things for him that you maybe don't want to do, but you're going to do them anyway because you care about him. It's about being alongside him day in and day out, not always because you want to, but because it's the right place to be. It's about taking care of his home and having pride in your work. Part of it’s for you, yes, but also for him. It's putting your trust in him, Libby, knowing that he has your best interest in mind and that you can count on…”
