A Gown of Spanish Lace (27 page)

She scrambled from the bed and crossed quickly to the window, lifting back the curtain and peering out. Her heart was racing as she looked toward the corrals. “Please, God—” she whispered, but even before she could finish her prayer her eyes fell on the little roan, his head extended over the top rail of the corral fence as he gazed off down the rutted country road toward the distant hills. He had been left alone. The buckskin and the black pack animal were gone. With them had gone Laramie.

Ariana felt like the pony. Deserted. Alone. She returned to the bed, where she threw herself down and wept.

Laramie rode all day. He wasn’t sure where he was going. Wasn’t sure what he would do when he got there, but he knew one thing. He had to put some miles between himself and Ariana. Had to be sure that he couldn’t give in to impulse—to turn around and head back to her. He had no right. No right to love such a girl. He wasn’t sure just who he was, but he was a wanted man. He knew that. Raids. Robbery. Rustling. He didn’t know what the penalty might be for his crimes. He had even shot a few men. True, one could argue self-defense—and he’d never shot to kill. But he’d used his gun. What would that mean? Imprisonment? Hanging? He had no idea. But he was sure he’d better stay well away from any lawmen—and Ariana.

His life looked bleak. He was a man on the run.

Ariana moved woodenly through the days. She spent hours with the little roan. They had been left, but they were together. Now they needed to start to rebuild their lives.

The fact that Ariana’s father and mother were coming helped her to look forward. Each day she checked off one more day on the calendar. But she was restless. Cut adrift. She couldn’t slip back into the same comfortable rut—nor did she seem to be able to slide into a new one. It was difficult.

If I could have gone back home, it would have been different
, she told herself.
I could have gone back to my teaching…to the church…and life could have picked up where it left off. But this…I don’t know where I fit. Don’t know how I should fit. I’m floundering
.

Ariana busied herself with helping her aunt Molly. She even ran errands for her uncle Jake. They were soon declaring they didn’t know how they’d ever gotten on without her. Still, she was restless and agitated.

Daily her thoughts went to Laramie. Where was he? Was he all right? Was he still looking for answers? Had he found at least some of them?

“Oh, God,” she prayed over and over. “May he realize that you have the important answers. That you can forgive. That you love him, too.”

Wisely, she turned to her Bible. Back to the wisdom and comfort of its pages.
I need to look up all those verses on trust again
, she told herself.
I thought I had learned that lesson…but I guess I need to start all over
.

So Ariana began again to explore the Scriptures.

The day finally arrived when the incoming stage brought the Bensons. Ariana’s excitement was easily matched by her parents’. It was so wonderful to be held in her father’s firm embrace, to hear his whispered words of love. Her mother’s tears of joy, the familiar fussing over her, made them all laugh and cry and thank God together. Then they turned to having a good visit with Jake and Molly.

They had brought all of Ariana’s things. “It wouldn’t be safe for you to come home—not yet,” Ariana’s mother insisted, wiping away tears as she spoke.

“Who’ll teach my students?” asked Ariana.

“They are looking for a new teacher for the fall,” was the reply. “The children have already lost half the term.”

“Why don’t you teach here?” Aunt Molly asked.

“They need a teacher at a local school?”

“Well, we don’t have a local school—yet—but we do have young’uns in the area,” added Uncle Jake.

“Jake, why don’t you talk to the neighbors at the next community gatherin’?” Aunt Molly went on, then she turned to her brother-in-law. “We don’t have a church yet, but we meet for Bible lessons once a month—turnabout—in one of the neighbor’s homes.”

“Papa,” cried Ariana, “why don’t you start a church?”

Four pairs of eyes turned on George Benson. They all looked eager. Anxious.

He shook his head slowly. “I’d have to do a lot of praying about that,” he said slowly. “God hasn’t shown me that my work in Smithton is finished yet.”

There were looks of disappointment, followed by nods of assent. Certainly he had to follow the will of God.

“But we do need a school,” went on Aunt Molly. “Jake, you talk to the neighbors.”

Jake nodded. There was no harm in discussing it.

“I can’t believe you brought—
everything
,” Ariana said to her mother as she carefully unpacked her belongings and stacked them in the chest of drawers Aunt Molly had provided.

“I didn’t know when you…might be…home again,” said her mother slowly. “I didn’t want to put you in jeopardy.”

“I really don’t think they’d ever…take me again,” said Ariana thoughtfully. “I mean…their reason is gone now.”

“Reason—what was the reason? I never have understood it.”

Ariana sat down, her eyes misty. She patted the bed beside her for her mother to join her.

“It’s a long story,” she managed. “You really want to hear it?”

Her mother nodded and took the seat on the bed.

“Well…” Ariana took a deep breath. She was finally going to get to tell her mother about Laramie. She welcomed the opportunity. They had always shared secrets. She could hardly wait to speak of him, for she knew instinctively that her mother would somehow understand the real man.

But even as she opened her mouth to begin, a little part of her held herself in check. What could she say to her mother? How much of her inner thoughts did she dare to reveal? Laramie was a wanted man. Yet Laramie was—a special man. Would she dare to confide in her mother that she thought—that she supposed she had fallen in love with her captor?

“Why did you bring this?” asked Ariana, her eyes wide with question.

“It’s yours,” answered her mother simply.

“But I don’t need it—now,” returned Ariana.

She heard her mother sigh. “Ariana,” she said, “I’m not sure when I will be able to make this trip again. And when a girl reaches your age…then…one never knows just when—”

Ariana was not sure how she should respond. She was saved by the bedroom door opening. Aunt Molly stuck her head in.

“Tea’s ready,” she called merrily. Then she saw the gown in Ariana’s hands. She pushed the door open and stepped in.

“What a beautiful dress!” she exclaimed. “Oh—my. Where’d you ever get it?”

Ariana let her hand slide over the material. It was beautiful. The most beautiful thing she had ever seen.

“It was my mama’s wedding gown,” Ariana answered simply.

Aunt Molly turned her eyes toward her sister-in-law.

“Oh, not mine,” Laura Benson was quick to explain. “Ariana’s birth mama. It was rescued from the wagon train after the raid. Ariana’s second mama—Lucy Millard—saved it for her. It was one of the few things…” Her voice trailed off.

Aunt Molly stared at her with horror-filled eyes. Then she turned back to the gown. “Well, it sure is a beautiful thing. I’ve never seen such a pretty dress in all my days.”

“Yes,” said Ariana softly. “It is beautiful. When I was little I used to dream about the day—” She stopped. She wasn’t sure now if she ever wanted to wear the gown.

“What is it made of?” asked Aunt Molly.

“It’s satin—satin overlaid with lace—Spanish lace, Aunt Lucy told me,” replied Ariana. “It was imported. Brought over special. Just for the gown.”

“One sleeve—” began Aunt Molly, reaching her hand out to the gown.

“One cuff is missing,” Laura Benson filled in. “See the way it is made—this big puffed sleeve nipped into this slender cuff that reaches to the wrist. This cuff—on this side—buttons on with these tiny little buttons. That cuff must have been lost at the time…. It’ll need to be repaired before Ariana—”

“I wonder if one can find matching lace,” began Aunt Molly, who loved to sew.

“Oh, I don’t think so,” went on Laura Benson. “Lucy said she watched for material—and I’ve looked too. Mind you, I’ve not been to the bigger cities, but it was special material—ordered just for that gown. Imported, like Ariana said. No, I don’t think one would ever match it.”

“It’s a shame,” mused Aunt Molly, still studying the beautiful lace and the missing cuff.

“I’ve thought that one could just make two new cuffs—of satin. It wouldn’t be quite as elegant, but it would do just fine. It’s still the most beautiful wedding gown—”

“Well, there’s plenty of time to be thinking on that,” said Ariana suddenly. “I have no plans.”

She began to fold up the gown with trembling hands.