Contract to Wed (3 page)

* * *

Jolene did not leave her rooms the
following day. She had her meals brought in and even stayed in her nightclothes
from morning till evening. She knew that she had some decisions to make, and
she knew she would be meeting Calvin the following day at the Boston Post
Office to telegraph Maximillian Shelby.

What an insane plan!
Could she possibly be contemplating
moving away from everything and everyone she knew to start over with a man
she’d never met? The only logical conclusion for why she was even considering
it was the fact that for some strange reason she trusted the Billings. She had
tried to figure a way that they would benefit if she married Eugenia’s brother
but could not. Calvin seemed embarrassed but mostly because his wife had been
terribly forward with her. Anyone else, even from her own social circle, would
have been hard-pressed to put forward such an outrageous plan and to one of
Boston’s first daughters yet! But that had not stopped Eugenia. Could she
recognize a like-mind for her brother? Before they’d left, Eugenia had pressed
into her hand a picture taken of Maximillian when he was a young man. He was
square-jawed and short-haired. Maximillian Shelby looked . . . single-minded.

Jolene spent most of her time writing and scratching off
what she would have the telegrapher send. What was the most important piece of
information she needed to know or wanted to convey? She admitted to herself
that there was a sense of peace when she thought about fleeing Boston. She
would no longer have to deal with her mother. She could leave behind the ashes
of her marriage. She would not have to build a new life in front of an audience.
She could begin again or simply drift away.

Chapter Four

March 1892

“I’m not sure I’ve ever heard of
anything that stupid in all my days,” Zebadiah Moran said as he leaned against
the door frame of the office at the Hacienda.

Max Shelby shrugged. “Last spring Eugenia wrote me and asked
me if I’d met anyone nice and that I needed to start thinking about a mother
for Melinda. I wrote her back and said I’d met plenty of women in Dallas but
none I was interested in. She wrote back last November and said there was a
Boston woman, a widow, who would be able to help with a U.S. Senate campaign
and would know how to guide Melinda. I just kind of got swept along. You’ve met
Eugenia. Once she gets an idea in her head, she’s hard to stop. And anyway, you’re
the one that said I had to do something about my daughter.”

“So you’re marrying some fancy Boston woman who won’t know
the ass end of a steer from the nose?”

Max ran a calloused hand through his dark hair as he leaned
back in the rolling chair and propped his feet on one end of his gleaming tree
trunk desk top. He ran his hand over the rings and thought about how long this
grand old red maple had stood before being felled to make way for the road to his
first oil well. “That’s the thing, Zeb. She doesn’t have to know one end of a
steer from another. I’m not bringing her here to get advice on the herd. I’m
bringing her here to do the things we don’t know how to do.”

“Like making nice with the Dallas folks so you can get
elected to some damn thing.”

“Exactly. That and Melinda. She needs a woman to talk to and
learn from.”

“You do realize that you’re going to be married to her. Most
folks think there’s a little more to that than getting invites to fancy parties,”
Zeb said.

“I’m already married to her. She’ll be here next week.”

* * *

That afternoon Max rode away from
the Hacienda on Freckles. He avoided his men working as he rode, just tipped
his flat-brimmed hat, and kept riding till he was climbing the low hill that
marked the western boundary of his land. It was there that he first saw Melissa
all those years ago. It was there that he fell in love, and he still felt her
connection strongly at that crest. He slid down Freckles’s side and wandered to
the edge, to the rock he’d been sitting on when he first saw her riding with
her father in their open wagon. How long ago now?
Fifteen years? Twenty? The
years have flown,
he thought. But it had been a long time, since Melinda
was one, eleven years ago, that he’d lost her. Lately, he’d been thinking that
it was time to make his family whole again. A husband, a wife, and a child,
even if the wife would never be Melissa, could never hold his heart and his
faith in all that was good, in her hands, like Melissa had done from the first time
he spoke to her.

“You know, Melissa,” he said aloud into the breeze. “She’ll
never replace you. She never could. But our daughter needs a momma, and I’ve
had a wish for, well, forever, to serve my neighbors, and I think the U. S.
Senate would suit me fine. It will help me get Melinda to know the right
families so when it’s time . . .” Max bent his head and swiped at his eyes. The
thought of his little girl, his living, breathing connection to love on this
earth, leaving the Hacienda with a husband, it was nearly more than he could
take.

Max took a deep breath.  Maybe this woman coming to
him, this Jolene Crawford Crenshaw Shelby would turn out to be a friend. From Eugenia’s
letter it sounded as though she had all it took to be successful in the Dallas
social circles, hell, they’d worship the ground she walked on once they found
out she was from one of Boston’s first families. And Eugenia, being an optimist
and a loving person, wrote that even though the woman may seem harsh or hard at
first glance, she carried some known, and some unknown, burdens.  Eugenia
seemed to think that Texas and the Hacienda and Melinda could heal her and that
there was a loving and happy woman waiting to be freed. Max sure hoped so.

He remembered those first weeks and months, maybe years,
after Melissa’s death. If it hadn’t been for Melinda, he would have surely shot
himself. Jolene had agreed to this marriage just two months after her husband
died, and he was hoping she wasn’t regretting her decision. But it was too late
now. She requested by telegraph that he deposit the twenty million dollars he
had offered in a bank account in her name only, immediately. He agreed with the
added stipulation that they marry by proxy as soon as the money was deposited
and that she arrive in Texas within four months from that date.

The deed was long done, those three and a half months ago,
and his bride was due to arrive in four days. He was ashamed to say that sometimes
he forgot he was married! There’d been no courting and only a few letters,
mostly from an attorney named Harton, outlining some legality and adding some
stipulations that he’d agreed to with little thought. But she was coming now,
and he knew that a new person, any new person, among such a tightly-knit group
as the one on his ranch, would need some time to adjust. She was bringing her
personal maid, as well, so there would be some disruption in those quarters,
too.

* * *

“Settle down, everybody,” Zeb
shouted over the din. “The boss has an announcement to make.”

Max looked around the room at his staff, more than forty of
them, without the men working straight through at the wells. Most were like
family to him, and many had sons or brothers or wives working here as well. The
room quieted.

“I know most of you are aching to get to the dining room and
see what Maria is serving us today,” Max said. “But I wanted to let you know
that I have gotten married. My bride . . .”

The room erupted in shouts and yahoos. The women stood to
hug him and kiss his cheek, and the men lined up to shake his hand.

“When is the wedding meal to be held?” Maria asked. “I’ve
got much to prepare for.”

Max asked for quiet. “This isn’t exactly that type of
marriage. Let me tell you . . .”

“What do you mean?” Pete, the head ranch hand, asked. “I
didn’t know there were different kinds of marriage! Hey, Maria, what type of marriage
do we have?”

“The kind where you do as I tell you to, si amor,” she
replied with a saucy swish of her skirts.

Max waited till the laughter died down. “My bride is from
Boston. She’ll be arriving this Monday on the train and bringing her maid.”

“How’d you meet her, Boss?” someone asked.

“Boston?” someone else said.

Zeb came up behind him and whispered. “Maybe we didn’t think
this all through to the end.”

“When did you go to Boston, Boss?”

“I didn’t go to Boston,” he said.

“Then how’d you meet her?”

Max pulled off his hat and scratched his head. “Well,” he
started

Zeb stepped in front of him. “Doesn’t matter how Mr. Shelby
met her, and it’s nobody else’s business. Mrs. Shelby is coming here Monday,
and, no doubt, this will be a big change for her. Make sure you’re on your best
behavior for her arrival,” Zeb said and turned to Maria. “Let’s you and I have
a talk about what needs to be done to accommodate both women.” He looked back
across the silent room of workers. “Okay. Let’s eat.”

Max waited till everyone filed into the staff dining rooms
where Maria and her helpers were placing steaming platters of roast beef,
baskets of bread just out of the oven, and metal pitchers of milk and lemonade
already sweating in the mid-morning heat, at each of the long tables. He looked
at Zeb.

“You’re right. I didn’t think this through.”

“They consider you family, Max, you know that. They want you
to be happy. Many of them were here when you lost Melissa. This isn’t a
business deal to them, or part of a strategy,” Zeb said. “The new Mrs. Shelby
is already a family member because they love and respect you. I sure hope your
new bride is ready for sixty assorted ranch hands, wildcatters, riggers, and
cooks who already love her.”

Zeb turned and walked into the dining hall. Max thought back
to when he was a young man growing up in Boston. He’d gone to the best schools
and been friends with the wealthy and well-heeled. Most likely, he knew exactly
the type of culture and people that his new bride would be accustomed to and
was one of the reasons he’d begged his father to stake him far away. He had
wanted nothing to do with Boston debutants and deal makers. But more than
likely, he’d married one.

That problem paled to what he knew he had to do next. Tell
his daughter.

* * *

“Where’s Melinda?” Max asked Pete
later that afternoon.

Pete paused from his work on bridles at the leather bench in
the stable. He pointed out the window with the awl he held in his hand.
“Fernando’s moving some of the herd to the lower corral. She’s rounding up with
him.”

Max walked through the hustle of men and animals between the
barns and the corrals and leaned against the wooden rail till Melinda saw him.

“Daddy! Did you see me get that one moving? She sure was
cantankerous!”

“She sure was, sweetheart,” he replied. “Take Daisy inside
to Pete. I want to talk to you about something.”

Melinda handed the reins to Pete and ran full-tilt at Max.
She jumped in his arms, and he spun them around till he was walking catawampus.
He grabbed onto to a post, and Melinda slid down his front and landed in a heap
on the ground, still laughing. Max reached down and pulled her to her feet.

“Let’s take a walk.”

“Sure, Daddy. Where to?”

“Just a walk. Do we always have to be going somewhere?” he
said with a smile.

Melinda held his hand and swung it back and forth between
them. “Nope. Just wondering.”

They walked in silence for a while, listening to a warbler
chip-chipping in the hot afternoon sun. Melinda was dressed in denim pants and
a shirt that was white, but thin from the washings, and getting small on her twelve-year-old
frame. She was starting to show a hint of breasts, which he’d been ignoring
since it made him sick to think about and too red-faced to talk about. He was
fairly certain that Maria had told Melinda about some other changes that might be
happening to her, too. Melinda was often found in Maria’s house near the Hacienda,
playing with Pete and Maria’s children. There was no doubt that Maria loved
Melinda, and he was sure Melinda considered Maria her mother, even though she
may have never thought about it or voiced it. That could be a spot of friction,
Max thought, as Melinda and Jolene got to know each other.

“I’ve got some big news to tell you and . . .”

“You’re going to let me go to the Dallas stockyards this
year with you and Zeb!”

Melinda was jumping up and down and running in circles. He
took her hand and walked her over to a flat rock, sat down, and pulled her into
his arms. “No. You’re not going to Dallas with Zeb and me.”

“Cause you go meet girls, huh?”

“Who told you that?” Max said and looked closely at Melinda.

Melinda shrugged. “Maria said so. She told me to stop
pestering to go with you to Dallas. That that’s the only time of the year that
you get to do whatever you want, and she thinks maybe you meet a nice lady there
and eat dinner together or something.”

Max hoped his hat shaded his face enough that Melinda
couldn’t see his cheeks burning. He usually did stop and see Bernadette at the
Silver Dollar and spend some time with her, although none of it was “eating
dinner together” that was for sure. Things were getting more complicated by the
second, and he had a deep down, sudden realization that marrying Jolene
Crenshaw was going to produce some unforeseen tension.

“I want to talk to you about something very important and
something I’ve hoped and prayed will make you happy,” he said and wondered, not
for the first time, why he’d waited until days before Jolene’s arrival to talk
to Melinda. He should have done it months ago. But it never seemed like the
right time. How was he going to explain that it was more of a business
transaction than anything, as if that didn’t make the whole thing sound as
tawdry as one of his trips to The Silver Dollar?

Melinda pulled her hat off and leaned back into his arms,
rubbing her cheek against the rough fabric of his shirt. “What is it, Daddy?”

“My new wife, your step-Momma, is traveling here by train
this very moment,” he said. He waited for some reaction or comment from Melinda,
but she was silent and continued picking at a rock she held in her hand.
“Well?”

“A mother?” she said finally. “Do you think she’ll love me?”

He squeezed her tight. “How could she not love you, darling?
You’re the prettiest, smartest twelve-year-old there ever was.”

“Where’s she from? She from town? It’s not Mrs. Burns, is
it?”

“You’ve never met her and, actually, neither have I. So
she’s going to need some time to get to know the both of us,” he said. “Her
husband died not too long ago.”

“Just like you, Daddy, with Momma dying. Maybe you won’t be
so lonely anymore. Maybe she’ll be your friend.”

“Why do you think I’m lonely, darling? I’ve got everything
here I could ever want.”

“Boys like to have a girl to hug, don’t they? Maria told me
someday there’ll be a special boy that loves me and only hugs me. Don’t you
want a girl that loves you and only wants to hug you?”

He gave her a quick squeeze. “I got you, though.”

She shook her head. “I’m not a baby anymore, Daddy. I know
that boys and girls get married and have babies and such. That’s what I’m
talking about.” Melinda’s eyes opened wide. “Is your new wife bringing her
children? Maybe you could have one with her, and then I’d have a baby brother
or sister. Can you, Daddy? Can you?”

Truth be told, he’d never asked if Jolene had children. He
didn’t have any idea if she’d be getting off that train with ten kids in tow,
although he doubted it, and his sister hadn’t mentioned any children. On the
rare occasion that he’d let himself concentrate on his new wife over the last
months, he kept thinking of his brother-in-law’s comments in one of the letters
he received from Calvin and Eugenia. Calvin, not given to excess in anything
other than spoiling Eugenia, described Jolene as a classic beauty. Tall and
dark-blonde-haired with fine bone structure and pale pink skin. And that led
his thoughts back around to what Melinda had unknowingly brought up. Would he
and Jolene ever be intimate?