Contract to Wed (7 page)

“Then you are a far braver person than I would ever be.”

“Bravery has nothing to do with it, you see. I was too much
of a coward for it to be known publically that Turner had killed himself.”

“I’m not sure it matters why you did it,” Maximillian said.
“I think you were probably in shock and trying to protect your family.”

Jolene looked up at him. “I was. However I was not thinking
of him. I resented him for forcing this disturbing episode on me. I hated him
for many, many reasons that I will go to my grave with. But, even still, I
could not imagine myself telling his mother that he’d handged himself. I just
couldn’t do it.”

“Does anyone know about this other than Alice?”

“I sent a message to the undertaker to retrieve the body
quickly, that he had died of influenza and I didn’t want it in the house one
second longer than necessary. When they moved him, Turner’s neck fell back from
his body, and the man sent to take him away looked at me. I said nothing. He
came back inside after moving him to his cart and told me it would be
five-hundred dollars to move the body to the undertaker, an ungodly amount of
money. I wrote him a check for five-thousand dollars and told him he was to
inform the undertaker that one of his men had dropped the body, even though
rope marks were beginning to show on Turner’s neck. He nodded, took the check,
and I never heard one more thing about it.”

* * *

Max got Jolene another tumbler of
brandy and took it to her. He dismissed Alice and sat on a chair beside the
chaise lounge she was stretched out on. She stared out the window for an hour
or more before her eyes finally closed. Max found a blanket, covered her, and
slipped out of her room. He stripped, all but his short drawers and stretched
out on his bed, hands behind his head, thinking about the story Jolene, his
wife, had just told him.

There weren’t too many women that would have done what she’d
done. And while she was cool, and even detached, as she told him, she gave
herself away when she said couldn’t imagine telling his mother that her son had
killed himself. There was some deep-seated anger and grief at the bottom of it,
he was certain, and he thought maybe what Jolene had done the night her husband
killed himself was a symptom rather than the source of her bitterness. He
wondered if she’d ever tell him the whole story. One thing was certain. He
would replay their kiss time and again in his head.

Chapter Nine

One week later Jolene could still
not believe she’d told Maximillian about the night Turner died. She was
grateful he had not pressed her for more details or looked at her with pity or
distaste. There had been some release for her, though, after telling that
story, she admitted. It was as if one of the steam valves on a train had
finally reached its boiling point and bellowed its whistle, especially after
telling him about the undertaker. No one knew of that detail and for months,
every time a servant told her she had a visitor, she anticipated seeing that
unwashed man who’d carried away Turner and her secrets, with his hand out for
more money.

When she saw Maximillian for the first time, she was
determined to act as if she’d never described that gruesome scene to him. But
when she saw him, she didn’t recall his holding her hand as she spoke, or the
tears she shed, or her embarrassment over both. She took one look at his face
and felt his breath on her cheek and his fingers pressed up against her breasts
as he held her arms. To her own mortification, she blushed. If he noticed, he
didn’t comment, but she felt as if he stared at her lips an uncommon length of time.
Or perhaps it was her imagination. They spoke each other’s name at the same time,
and she felt awkward as if she was a green girl.

“I’m expecting a delivery from McCabe’s Apparel today,
Maximillian,” she said later that week. “I assume I have an account set up with
them?”

“I didn’t before, but I’m guessing I do now. Lots of things
were delivered from McCabe’s the day we rode into town. There’s more?”

“Yes, there is more. I just had some ready-to-wear garments
sent that day. Many of the things I ordered had to be made and weren’t done
until now. In fact, there are two gowns that won’t be ready for another few
weeks,” Jolene said.

“Just give the bill to Zeb. He’ll see that it’s paid.”

“I have sufficient funds to pay for my wardrobe.”

“I will dress and feed my wife. There’ll be no arguing about
that.”

“I would prefer to be under no obligation.”

Maximillian smiled. “I believe we are having our first
argument, Mrs. Shelby.”

Jolene looked away. This was certainly not how she
anticipated resolving small differences. “Money is a serious matter,
Maximillian. I would think this disagreement would be best solved in a serious
manner.”

“You’re right, Jolene,” he said. “But truth be known, if I
didn’t make one more nickel, even if we lost the ranch and the wells, we’d be
fine for all the rest of our days. We’d never go hungry, and we’d always have a
roof over our heads. But we are making money on this land every day, and our
money in the bank is invested diversely. While I’m not being frivolous, I’m not
going to get myself in an uproar over your new clothes.”

“I didn’t pay enough attention to money in my first
marriage. I have no intentions of repeating that mistake,” Jolene said. “I
remember listening to my father talk about the Great Depression of ’73. There
was a run on the banks, and wealth disappeared in a matter of days. My father’s
bank had not over invested in the railroads, but it was a tense time for many
old-money families who lost everything. My father’s best friend shot himself in
his carriage house.”

Maximillian walked close to her. “Jolene. If the absolute
worst happens, I will always take care of you and Melinda. If I have to get a
job driving teams or digging fence lines, I’d do it. You don’t have to worry.”

“Men say things they don’t always mean,” she replied.

He touched her cheek with his hand. “Who hurt you, Jolene?
Whoever it was is gone out of your life. You’re going to have to learn to trust
me.”

Maria tapped on the doorway of his office where she stood
with Maximillian. “Mrs. Shelby. Mrs. McCabe is here.”

“Send her in, Maria,” Maximillian said and smiled as he
looked at Jolene. “I want to pay her.”

Mrs. McCabe and two young women were escorted into
Maximillian’s office. Maria turned to leave and Jolene stopped her. “Maria.
Mrs. McCabe will be taking your measurements today. And please have your two
other most reliable staff members be measured as well.”

“And the young girl?” Mrs. McCabe asked. “We don’t want to
forget her.”

“Melinda?” Maximillian said.

“Melinda needs clothing and not more dungarees and flannel
shirts. She needs dresses and skirts appropriate for a young girl. Mrs. McCabe
has brought some ready-to-wear items and will plan a complete wardrobe,” Jolene
said.

“I will get Melinda, Mrs. Shelby, once I take Mrs. McCabe to
the guest room,” Maria said.

“I’ll get Melinda,” Maximillian said.

* * *

Max tracked down Melinda to where he
was planning on building a new bunk house. There were just piles of dirt and
string run around four posts, but Melinda and Maria’s children were playing on
the mounds of earth and sliding down them on their backsides.

“Melinda,” he called. She ran to him, laughing and dusting
her hands on her pants.

“Daddy! I haven’t seen you all day!”

He kissed her head and hugged her to him, and she wrapped
her arms around his waist. “Come on inside, sweetheart. There’s something I
need you to do. But first, go to your rooms, wash up and change clothes.”

“What is it?” she said and skipped along beside him. “Can I
come back out to play then?”

“
May
I come back out to play,” he replied.

She giggled. “
May
I come back out to play?”

“We’ll see,” he said. “It will almost be time for supper
then.”

Melinda ran ahead of him, and he waited at the bottom of the
stairs until she reappeared in a clean top and pants. She jumped off the third
to last step and laughed when he caught her. Max held her close to him for a
long minute. She was not going to like what was going to happen next. He
knocked at the door.

“Is everyone decent?” he hollered and heard laughter from
inside. The door opened and he walked in with Melinda. “Here she is.”

Jolene walked over to him. “Thank you, Maximillian. You may
go now.”

* * *

“Come in,” Max said to the knock at
his office door the following week and looked up. “What do you need, Maria?”

“Mr. Shelby, I think you should speak to Melinda,” Maria
said in a rush as she wrung her hands.

Max continued adding up columns of numbers. “If she’s giving
you a hard time, Maria, swat her on the butt. She’s got no right to disrespect
you.”

“That is not it, Mr. Shelby.”

“What is it then?” he asked and wrote in a total at the
bottom of the account book.

“I don’t think she’s eaten anything today. She didn’t come
down for her breakfast, and I have not seen her downstairs all day,” Maria
said.

Max stood up and came around the desk. “Is she sick? Did
anyone check on her?”

“Yes, yes. We have checked on her. She is in her room. She
told the Donatella that she felt fine when she went to straighten her room.”

Max stopped and stared down at Maria. “What is this about?”

“Mrs. Shelby has taken her clothes.”

Max rubbed his face. “I’m thinking I better go see what’s
going on.”

Max took the hallway to Melinda’s room in long strides. He
knocked on the door. “Melinda?” He heard the door unlock and opened it. Melinda
was standing there in her combination.  “What are you still doing in your
drawers?”

“She took my clothes!” Melinda shouted.

“Jolene?”

Melinda was crying and launched herself at Max. “I want my
clothes back!”

Max patted her back. “I’m sure she’s not meaning to keep
them from you, sweetheart. Let me talk to her, and we’ll get this all
straightened out. You can’t spend your whole day in your room, why, what would
Daisy think if she didn’t see you?”

“I hate her. I want her to leave.”

Max put Melinda down on her feet and held her chin. “We
don’t hate, Melinda. There’s no sense in it, and nobody’s ever satisfied.” He
kissed the top of her head and walked out the door.

A few minutes later he found Jolene coming out of a guest
room with one of the maids. She turned to him.

“I was just coming to look for you. I have some questions
for you,” she said and turned to the young woman. “Thank you. I’ll let you know
what Mr. Shelby and I decide.”

Max waited until the maid was beyond hearing distance. “I
was just in Melinda’s room because Maria told me she was still there and hadn’t
come down for the day. She said you took her clothes.”

“I did take her clothes.”

“Why?” Max asked.

“She has new clothes appropriate to her age, sex, and
station,” Jolene replied. “However, that is not the reason I had the laundress
take her clothes.”

Max opened the door closest to him and motioned Jolene to
precede him. “We aren’t having guests today, and it’s not dinner time. I don’t
see any reason to make her wear these new duds. She’s just a girl and likes to
ride her horses and play with the other children.”

“Do not fear, Maximillian. I have no intentions of raising
her. I have told you that. But I will not tolerate her being dirty about her
person because you allow her to run rough shod over the staff.”

“What do you mean
rough shod
? Melinda is a sweet,
kind child, and she’s beloved here.”

“I am well aware that you love her desperately. And she
certainly has a sweet disposition. But she is still a child and needs discipline
as well. Housekeeping-type issues here are handled by Maria, who is a very
competent housekeeper, but is far too lenient with Melinda and places the same
expectations on her as she does her own children. I imagine you have higher
hopes for Melinda than being a ranch hand or marrying one.”

Max stared at Jolene, tight-lipped. How dare she talk about
Melinda this way! But the more he processed her words, the more worried he
became that she was right. He knew Maria doted on Melinda. Hell, he was glad.
He thought it might make up some of the pain of being motherless. And while there
was nothing the matter with being a ranch hand or marrying one, it was also
likely that Melinda and her husband would be in control of a vast and complex
business on his death. She needed to be prepared to take over the lead when the
time came. He owed it to everyone who depended on him now and in the future.

“What did you mean when you said ‘dirty about her person’?”
he asked.

“She doesn’t bathe very often, and she wears her dirty
clothes for days on end. I asked the laundress why her clothes were not clean,
and she said because Melinda puts them back in a drawer when she takes them off
so a maid doesn’t take them to the laundry.”

Max’s shoulders dropped. “I had no idea.”

Jolene turned to leave. “I will not interfere with how you
choose to raise her, but I won’t let the staff be manipulated by a twelve-year-old
either.”

“She’ll be thirteen in a month,” Max said and looked at her
intently. “I need your help, Jolene.”

* * *

“I have agreed to help you make a
smooth entrance into society and act as your hostess. That was our
arrangement,” Jolene said. “I have never agreed, nor promised, to raise . . .”

“Yes, yes, I know. I know you never agreed to be a mother.
But the situation being as it is, I am asking you for help. You obviously know
more about raising children than I ever will.”

“Really, Maximillian? My familial experience is not what you
would want to model. My mother is conniving and cruel, and my father has buried
his head so deeply in his business that he was unable to fathom the living hell
that Mother made of our lives.” Jolene turned to the door quickly. She could
not believe she’d said what she said to him. Why did she disclose these types
of secrets to him?

Maximillian caught her arm before she could escape. He was
staring at her in that way he did when Jolene felt he could read her mind. “I’m
sorry, Jolene. My mother and father are two of the most loving and kind
individuals whom you would ever want to meet. Eugenia and I had strict rules
and structure, but we never doubted we were loved. Not for an instant. I can’t
imagine growing up any other way.”

“You were very fortunate, Maximillian.”

“Was there anyone else you were close to growing up? Your
sisters or an aunt or an uncle?”

Jolene looked out the long windows of the room they stood
in. She wasn’t sure if anyone had ever asked her a question like this one. She
was
sure she’d never voiced her opinion of her mother and father before. She’d
accepted the superiority of their family’s position and forfeited any semblance
of closeness she’d seen in other girls’ families growing up. It had not
occurred to her that there was a remedy to her family’s coldness or that she’d
have an opportunity to leave it behind. But could she leave it behind? Did she
know how?

“My father’s mother, my grandmother, died when I was twelve.
She never failed to hug me or ask questions about my studies, or comment on how
pretty I was. She was the same to my sisters and cousins. I think she was a
naturally kind person. Her death removed any bit of family happiness I knew.”

“After Melissa’s death, I tried to hang onto the little
traditions and rituals that she’d always done for the staff and Melinda.
Lately, I’ve settled for loving Melinda to pieces. But that’s not all there is
to a family, is there? I think that’s why I decided I needed to marry again. I
need the balance a family brings. Melinda and I need kindness and discipline
and arguing and caring to make a real family again. I think you probably do,
too.”

Jolene looked up at him and let her eyes wander over his
face. She was able to read people well, and Maximillian Shelby’s expression was
void of deceit and misdirection. A tight knot formed at the base of her throat.
It had been years, decades, since she felt a niggling sense of hopefulness. How
desperate was she to shed the heavy weight of disdain and superiority and
aloneness she carried? She could not answer him.