A Gown of Spanish Lace (31 page)

It took Laramie a while to grasp the words.

“I don’t understand,” he said when he could speak. “I was a member of the gang. I—”

“Now, how am I s’pose to prove thet?” demanded the sheriff. “Ain’t nobody claimed to have seen ya—ain’t no poster. Nothin’.”

“But I have admitted…my guilt,” declared Laramie.

The feet lifted again. The sheriff leaned back and looked at Laramie. He chewed on a straw that he picked from his pant cuff. “So ya did,” he observed. “They say thet confession is good fer the soul.”

He stared into Laramie’s eyes as though his words carried some secret message.

“Son,” he said at last, “ain’t ever’ day thet anyone comes to me tellin’ me of past sins. Now I’m takin’ from this here—confession—thet ya ain’t plannin’ on being a part of such—action—agin. Thet right?”

Laramie nodded dumbly.

“Thet ole gang—it’s been—what shall we say—dismembered. An’ from our little conversation—I don’t think thet you’ll be pickin’ up with another one. Right?”

Laramie nodded again.

“Then—I suggest thet our conversation is closed.”

At the stunned look on Laramie’s face he went on, pointing one long finger at Laramie’s chest. “But let me tell ya this, son. You mess with me—you’re gonna swing. Ya got thet?”

Laramie stood to his feet nodding. He swallowed again.

“There’s one more thing, Sheriff,” he managed.

The sheriff nodded, but he looked impatient. “Make it fast,” he said. “The coffee’s gittin’ cold over at Evita’s.”

Laramie lifted the little leather bag. “Money,” he said simply. “This is stolen money.”

“Stolen from where?” asked the sheriff.

“I don’t rightly know. Here an’ there. Most anywhere. I…have no idea. It was always divided up evenly. I don’t know where this came from.”

The sheriff swore. “Then how’m I to know where to give it back?” he said gruffly.

“Well…what am I to do—?”

“Look,” said the sheriff testily. “Thet’s yer problem. Not mine. Ya don’t know where to take it back—then it’s yer burden. You figure it out. I dunno.”

He walked away muttering to himself. “Outlaws,” fumed the sheriff. “Got no business gittin’ religion. Makes more trouble then it’s worth.”

Laramie, holding his leather pouch of gold coins, watched him go and then stepped from the office. It took several minutes for him to realize that he was a free man.

Carefully Laramie counted out the money he had earned honestly as a ranch hand. He had already been giving his tithe to the little church where he had attended. Now the small pile of coins that were left did not look like much. Laramie sighed. They’d never put a down payment on his own spread, that was a sure thing.

He had seen a little church just down the street. He made his way to it now. A surprised minister answered his knock.

“Do you…do you help out poor people and the like?” asked Laramie.

“We help when we can, son, but our funds are limited,” said the man. “Don’t know that we can do much but—what can I do for you?”

Laramie lifted the leather bag and poured its contents out on the wooden desk. “I’d like to make a donation,” he said simply. The shining gold pieces glimmered in the afternoon sunlight streaming through the window. The man stood and stared.

“It was not honest money, but I’ve no way to git it back to those it was taken from,” Laramie admitted. “Maybe you can undo a bit of that by puttin’ it to good use.”

The man still stared.

Laramie tipped his hat in respect and moved toward the door. “May the Lord bless you—an’ yer church,” he said with deep feeling, and he was gone.

Ariana moved about the schoolroom, cleaning the chalkboards, tidying the small desks, and putting the few books they possessed back on the one makeshift shelf.

She was finally able to hum again. It had taken many months for her to feel that the song was back in her heart. But the months had lessened her pain and disappointment—though she still prayed fervently for Laramie. God was in control. He had brought good from her ordeal. Never had she seen such eager students. And their enthusiasm for learning carried over into her Sunday school class, for most of them returned again on Sunday to have their Bible lessons in the same little building.

Ariana moved to put the last books on the shelf. It was a pleasant evening—with many promised hours of sunlight yet. She would have time to saddle the little roan and take a leisurely ride before Aunt Molly’s supper was served.

A firm rap on the door brought Ariana to attention. She was not used to callers at the schoolhouse. Momentarily her heart began racing. She had not forgotten the men who had visited her over two years earlier and carried her captive. Ariana had a hard time finding her voice. She was not quite sure if she could bid the visitor enter.

The door opened—just a crack at first. Ariana watched with her breath caught in her throat.

Then the door pushed open farther—and there stood Laramie.

He was clean-shaven with carefully trimmed hair. His clothes were not new but were clean and well kept. His eyes, which held a spark, seemed to look right into her soul.

She caught her breath again. One word escaped her lips. “Laramie.”

He moved forward slowly, his black Stetson in his hands. “May I…come in?” he asked softly.

She nodded. She couldn’t speak. He looked—the same—yet so different.

“You’ve come back,” she managed to whisper.

He nodded. “You made me promise. Remember?”

“I…yes.” Tears threatened to spill. He could see them coming.

He stopped a few feet in front of her. Just stopped and looked at her.

“You look…well,” he observed.

She swallowed. “And you,” she managed.

They stood in silence. Laramie struggled with words and then spoke softly. “You remember,” he began, “that I was to…find some answers. Find myself.”

She nodded.

“Well, I’ve done that,” he said simply and then added, “an’ in the process…I’ve found God, too.”

She stood and looked at him and then the tears began to spill from her eyes. “Oh, Laramie…I’ve prayed and prayed. I was beginning to think—”

“I was…afraid thet…thet you’d have given up. Thet—”

She looked up into his face, her eyes shining in spite of the tears that still ran down her cheeks.

“Oh no,” she said between tears and laughter. “I would have waited…forever…to hear those words, if need be. Nothing…could make me happier. We are…are…fellow believers now. Nothing…could bring me…more joy.”

Laramie longed to reach for her. To brush the tears from her cheeks and bury his face in her hair. He did not dare. He knew he had no right to expect her to care for him in the way that he cared for her.

He swallowed hard and willed himself to remain at a distance.

Chapter Twenty-two

Adrift

Laramie found a job with a local rancher and settled into the community. He was welcomed into the small congregation that met at the schoolhouse, and Ariana saw to it that he was put to work. To his surprise, Ariana seemed to assume that the situation had now changed—that the past was forgiven and could also be forgotten. She even managed, in a subtle way, to convey the idea that she expected him to call.

Laramie was quick to oblige, and the young people were soon seen as a couple in the community. Even Uncle Jake and Aunt Molly expressed unspoken pleasure in the arrangement.

Laramie could not have expressed his deep joy. It seemed that his unthinkable dream might indeed come true. It was hard to keep his love for Ariana in check when she greeted him with sparkling eyes and welcomed, with open pleasure, his evening calls. They spent many pleasurable hours by the fireplace, sharing thoughts and dreams, talking about the events past and their dreams for the future.

Ariana would have been happy to marry quickly, and though Laramie was also anxious, he held himself back.

“But why wait?” argued Ariana. “We both know that in our hearts we plan to—someday—marry.”

“Not until I have earned enough money to at least provide us with some of the things we’ll be needin’,” he countered.

Ariana smiled. “There’s little I need to make me happy,” she insisted.

“But you would like a roof over yer head,” he teased.

Ariana tipped her head and grinned saucily. “It might be fun to sleep under the stars.”

“Until the first snowstorm.”

“Perhaps we could borrow a tent—from White Eagle.”

“White Eagle needs his tent. By now his papoose will have joined him. He is a true family man now.”

Ariana smiled. She had never been happier. She wished White Eagle even a portion of the joy that she herself felt.

“We do need to set a date,” she said, and she was no longer teasing. “I want Papa and Mama to be here. Papa will marry us, of course. An’ Mama and Aunt Molly will arrange the dinner for family and friends. They will need to know so they can make plans.”

Laramie agreed.

The summer was moving into autumn.

“How about a Christmas wedding?” he asked Ariana.

Ariana thought about it. It seemed a long time to wait. At last she smiled. A Christmas wedding would be just fine.

“I’ll let them know,” said Ariana. “I do hope they will come early.”

Laramie reached out to smooth back her windblown hair. They had ridden out to the ridge overlooking the small farm that belonged to her uncle. The day was just warm enough to be comfortable. The last of the summer crops bowed their heads to the passing breezes. The birds filled the afternoon with spirited chatter.

“It’s so peaceful here—I love it,” mused Laramie in contentment.

“Can we live here—always?” asked Ariana dreamily.

“Always,” he answered.

Ariana moved in closer to him until her shoulder was touching his chest. “I never dreamed I could be so…happy,” she sighed.

His hand dropped to her arm and pulled her closer against him. He lowered his head to place a kiss on the top of her tousled hair. “It is still like a…a dream,” he said.

“When did you first know?” she quizzed him.

He smiled and gave her a little squeeze. “Is that important?”

“Sort of. I just wondered.”

“I…it was after I’d shot the snake. I was afraid. I suddenly realized thet if somethin’ happened to you…thet I would…suffer terribly. Thet you were much more than a…prisoner thet I was bound to free. I loved you. I realized thet then.”

Ariana stirred dreamily.

“That’s when I first knew, too,” she told him.

She turned and reached up to run a finger gently along the scar. “And to think that I might have never met you. That you could have died…as a baby. You know, I owe Will Russell so much. For saving you, then for…for kidnapping me.”

She giggled. “That sounds like a silly thing to say, doesn’t it? But it…it turned out very well…don’t you think?”

He nodded, his heart too full for an answer.

“You know,” went on Ariana, “our backgrounds really aren’t that different. Both orphans. Both lost our folks in an Indian raid. Rather ironic—or coincidental—don’t you think?”

Laramie nodded, his head bent over Ariana’s.

“Well, all that’s behind us. Now…now we have the whole future ahead of us. We can…can make up for all the past…in the years ahead.” She sighed deeply.