A Gown of Spanish Lace (26 page)

He couldn’t understand his mood.

“Aw, it’s jest the letdown after all the days of tension,” he tried to tell himself. But down deep inside he knew the real reason. It was Ariana. Once he left her, he would never see her again. His pa had been right. Loving a girl could nearly ruin a man.

“Hungry?”

Laramie’s head jerked up as Ariana came up beside him.

“Aunt Molly has fixed tea,” she announced.

At the look on Laramie’s face she began to laugh. A soft, joyful laugh. It was the first Laramie had heard her laugh so freely in all the months he had known her. It was a reminder of how much they had taken from her in holding her captive in such a degrading way.

“You don’t have to drink tea,” she said with a sparkle in her eyes. “I’ll fix you some coffee.”

Laramie supposed he should be hungry, but he really had little appetite.

“It’s not the tea,” he was quick to inform her, not wanting to be uncivil. “It’s just that—” He let his gaze drop to his trail-dusty attire. “I’m not really fit company an’ I—”

“Oh, come on,” she coaxed. “Uncle Jake and Aunt Molly are just ordinary folk. Farmers. Uncle Jake didn’t change out of his dusty overalls.”

“It’s not just the…clothes,” he said, still hesitating. “I…hardly fit in with…proper company. I know little of—what do you call it?”

She smiled again. “Social graces? I promise we won’t expect you to use one of those little teacups and eat bite-size sandwiches.” Her eyes were twinkling again.

He was still uncomfortable.

“We’re going to eat on the back porch,” she continued.

He reached up one finger to tip back his new Stetson.

“You have to start sometime,” she encouraged. “We won’t be eating around a campfire anymore.”

She had said “we.” Was that just a slip? Surely she wasn’t thinking that he intended to hang around.

“Come on. Aunt Molly is anxious to get to know you better. She’s worried about letting you sleep in the loft. Says it’s not really fixed for guests. I said, after where we’ve been sleeping—”

He stopped her. “You’re not thinkin’ I’ll be stayin’ here, are you?”

Her eyes widened. He could tell from her expression that it was exactly what she had been thinking.

“Where else—?”

“I can’t.” He shook his head.

The concern in her eyes deepened. She reached out and put a hand on his arm.

“But I thought—I mean, I never dreamed—that you wouldn’t stay.”

“I can’t,” he said again.

“But Papa and Mama will want to meet you.”

“Your papa and mama? I thought they were back in Smithton.”

“They are. But they’ll come. Just as soon as they get the wire—they’ll come.”

He shook his head stubbornly. “I don’t think they’ll be wantin’ to see the likes of me.”

“What do you mean?”

“I was the reason…remember? I was your…prison guard.”

She looked annoyed. “Can’t you get past that?” she said tersely. “You brought me out. You risked your own life to help me get back to my folks. That’s what they will think about and remember. That’s what I remember.”

He shuffled uncomfortably. She might forgive so easily—but could her parents?

“Come on,” she coaxed. “We’ll talk about that later. Come—have some sandwiches. Aunt Molly has them ready and Uncle Jake looks like he’s about starved.”

He was totally aware of the fact that she still had her hand on his arm.

“Sandwiches,” he agreed and let her lead him toward the house.

Ariana hummed as she prepared herself for the evening meal. She didn’t remember when she had felt so lighthearted.
It is so wonderful to be free
, she exulted inwardly. It almost made her giddy.

But it was more than that. Perhaps it was because she now knew the real difference between imprisonment and freedom—fear and security. Perhaps it was because all the bottled tension of the past months was seeping slowly from her, making room for happiness to spill back in. Perhaps it was the loving welcome that her uncle and aunt had so willingly extended, making her feel so loved and accepted.

Perhaps it was—Laramie.

Ariana blushed, even though she was alone in the room.

What were her feelings concerning Laramie? She didn’t know if she could answer the question—even in her own heart. But she did realize that her feelings had gone about a slow change during the days they had traveled to freedom together.

At first he had been her captor, and she had feared him just as she had every aspect of camp life. She was confused and lonely and terribly frightened. He had seemed civil enough. But he was the one guarding her as prisoner, and so she had remained aloof, on guard, watchful for any sign that might show his true colors.

Then he had become her liberator. She knew enough to know it had been daring on his part. Dangerous. His own father would have had no mercy had they been caught. But even in this role, Ariana had been cautious. Guarded. He was, after all, an outlaw. How could she know what strange and warped behavior might lurk beneath the seemingly controlled exterior?

But now something had changed. Ariana felt that it had something to do with the snake incident. She blushed again at the thought of it.

It wasn’t that he had killed the snake. No, it was more than that. Something—that she found hard to define. Hard to think through. But it was there—between them. She saw it in his eyes as he bent over her, holding her head, wiping her face with his bandana. There was compassion reflected there. Tenderness. There was nothing evil in those eyes. Had he changed? Or was this what he had always been? Would have been, had his circumstances been different?

Ariana did not know. But in some unexplainable way she felt in her heart that they were rather on even ground. Laramie had rescued her from her captors—and she, in some strange and unplanned way, had rescued him from his.

And he had listened to her read from the Bible—with such interest. Surely, surely, given a little time, he would understand its message and seek out God’s forgiveness for his past. She prayed for that with an impatience and urgency she had never brought to prayer before. And she felt confident her prayer would soon be answered.

So she hummed, her heart light. Life held so much promise. She could hardly wait for what each new day would reveal.

Ariana slipped up beside Laramie as he stood leaning against the corral fence, watching the horses feed from the overflowing manger of hay.

“You look very serious,” she said in a teasing tone. “Was it really that hard to sit up to a table with a checkered tablecloth?”

Laramie smiled. “I plumb enjoyed it,” he admitted. “Especially the apple pie.”

Ariana stood beside him and placed her hands on the top rail. They remained silent for a number of minutes, each deep in thought.

In the distance a coyote howled and the farm dog answered in protest.

“Two different worlds,” mused Laramie.

Ariana looked puzzled.

“The coyote and the dog,” he explained. “Same family—yet two different worlds.”

Ariana gave a slight shrug. “Guess either one of them might adjust—if they had to.”

Laramie did not answer.

Silence again. The horses continued to feed, their energetic chewing reaching the ears of the two silent people.

“Which one would find it hardest, do you think?” wondered Ariana.

Laramie looked toward the horses. Ariana wondered if he had already forgotten the conversation of a few moments before.

“The dog—or the coyote?” she reminded him.

He seemed to be thinking on it.

“Would it be hardest for the tame animal to adjust to the wild—or the wild animal to adjust to being tamed?” she persisted.

“I couldn’t say,” he responded, but his voice sounded wistful.

Ariana waited before she spoke again. “Do you mind if I ask you something?”

He seemed to consider it a moment. At last he nodded. “Go ahead,” he invited. “I’ll answer, if I can.”

“That scar—just at your hairline—how’d you get it? I noticed it before—when you took your hat off in the cave—and when you came in—”

“Now—thet I can’t answer,” he said with good humor. “It’s been there fer as long as I can remember. All I know is thet jest a bit shows—but it reaches back further. Jest can’t see it—with all my mane. Gotta find some place to git me a haircut. Surprised yer kin even let me in the house.”

Ariana laughed softly. He smiled in response.

They fell silent again.

Then Laramie picked up the thread of the conversation. “I was jest thinkin’—’fore ya came out,” he said. “You interested in keepin’ thet little roan? Seems ya got on quite well….”

Even in the gathering twilight he could see her eyes darken.

“You’re still planning to go…aren’t you?” she said quietly.

He nodded. He hated to see the hurt look on her face. If only she understood his impossible situation.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered into the soft darkness. “I was hoping you’d want to stay.”

Her words tore at Laramie’s soul.

“Ariana…you know…I can’t,” he argued, his voice husky with his emotions. “I can’t.”

“But—”

“We don’t even know for sure…who I am,” he continued, turning toward her.

“But we do. Your mother’s Bible—”

“It might not even be my ma’s. We are just goin’ on Sam’s say-so—an’ Sam ain’t exactly one ya’d stake yer life on.”

“But—”

“I might be thet…thet person named there. She might have been my ma…but I’ve still got lots of questions. I mean…she…she jest don’t seem to fit…with him. The picture…the pretty things…the Bible.”

“Maybe we can find the answers—together.”

He took her by the shoulders and turned her toward him.

“I’m a wanted man,” he reminded her.

He could see the tears spring into her eyes and slip unbidden down her cheeks.

“That doesn’t matter,” she whispered intensely.

For one moment he looked deeply into her eyes. “It does to me,” he answered, and his words were spoken with finality. “It matters a whole lot to me. I…I’m not a free man. I’m…”

A sigh from somewhere deep within him stopped his words. He took another deep breath and contiued.

“I’ll be leavin’ before sunup.” The words sounded blunt. Harsh.

She looked hurt—and angry. She pushed his hands off her shoulders. “Go then—go if you must.”

She took two steps back from him and stood silently. He could see her shoulders lift and fall.

When she lifted her face the tears were falling freely. Her chin quivered. But her voice was now soft.

“I’m sorry,” she apologized. “I had no right…I had hoped that…you’d wish to…”

She lifted her head and stared into his face, her eyes pleading.

“What I want has nothin’—” he began quickly, but he couldn’t finish. The unvoiced thoughts seemed to tear at his very being.

Ariana stood before him, paying no heed to the tears that wet her cheeks. “Nothing will change your mind, will it?” she managed to say barely above a whisper. “Please, please—just promise me one thing,” she implored. “When you’ve sorted it out—please—come back.”

And then she was gone—and a big part of Laramie went with her.

Chapter Nineteen

Adjustments

When Ariana opened her eyes the next morning, her first thought was of Laramie. Did he really mean to do what he had insisted on the night before? Surely—surely he had changed his mind. He wouldn’t just ride out of her life. Leaving her—alone again.