Deborah Camp (33 page)

She crumpled over, her cheek sliding up his chest until her face found the curve of his neck. She kissed him, rubbing her forehead against the stubble along his jawline.

And in the deep richness of their shared journey, Zanna cried a single tear of joy.

“Oh, Grandy,” she whispered, overcome with the resurrection of her ability to love without reservation. “I was starving and I didn’t even know I was hungry.”

“Me, too, darlin’,” he whispered back, his lips stirring the hair at her temple. “Me, too.”

“You’re mighty cheerful today,” Perkins said, eyeing Zanna, who sat next to him on the wagon springboard seat.

“I am,” Zanna said, only then realizing she’d been humming all the way from Primrose into town. “It’s a lovely day.”

“Yes’m, guess so.”

She pretended to examine the houses on the outskirts of Scyene, all the while treasuring her private thoughts of last night and earlier that morning when Grandy had initiated her into the world of considerate and equal lovers. In the middle of the night he’d gotten out of bed to search through her dresser drawers until he’d found the nightgown she’d made for herself, which he’d helped her slip into. Then he’d joined her in bed again, holding her close and telling her how pretty she was in her own creation. Through the thin material, his hands had warmed her breasts and teased her nipples into rosy erectness. Just before dawn, he had made love to her again, encouraging her to touch and kiss him all over.

And in the heart of her heart she had known what he was doing. Like a seamstress applying bright patches of material over faded, torn places in a garment, Grandy was affixing pretty memories over her ugly ones. Yes, in the heart of her heart she knew and she loved him for it.

Releasing a soft sigh, Zanna again wondered what she’d
done to deserve the miracle of Grandville Adams. Oh, she was blessed!

She’d tried to talk Grandy into coming to town with her that morning, but he’d insisted that he needed to stay behind and chop cotton.

“Honey, if I let those weeds get ahead of me, it’ll be a big, old mess and we don’t want that, do we?” he’d said with his lazy, luscious drawl.

And his eyes had spoken of how he’d miss her and how she should hurry back because there was more for her to learn about him and more he wanted to learn about her.

“Perkins, do I look different?” Zanna asked, twisting to face her foreman again.

“Different? From what?” Perkins asked, slinging a perturbed glance at her.

“From yesterday.”

He examined her from the corner of his eyes. “Nope. Not to me. Did you do something to your hair or is that a new dress? I’m not very good at noticing woman things like that.”

“Never mind.” Zanna faced front again, amused by Perkins’s failure to see the light of love in her eyes and the contentment in her smile. She didn’t have to be told. She
knew
she was different and it
must
show. Like when a woman is pregnant and people say she glows, Zanna thought. Well, when a woman had been loved and been allowed to love back, then she must, if not glow, then at least shine … or glimmer.
Something
.

Perkins tugged on the reins to slow Milkmaid and Cherokee, making Zanna sit up and take notice.

“Why are you stopping here?”

“Sheriff Warwick’s waving us over,” Perkins said, pointing out the portly sheriff, who was standing outside the jail, hat in hand and arm upraised to catch their attention.

“So he is,” Zanna said, leaning down to speak with
the sheriff as Perkins brought the wagon to a standstill. “Good morning, sheriff. What can we do for you?”

“I need to speak to you before you leave town.” Sheriff Warwick nodded a greeting at Perkins. “It’s important.”

“Very well. You go on to the store, Perkins, and get our supplies while I speak to the sheriff. I’ll catch up with you later. You can pick me up either here or at Theo Booker’s when you’re ready.”

Sheriff Warwick helped Zanna down from the wagon. “Let’s go into my office,” he said, taking her arm and escorting her inside the dark, smelly room.

The office hadn’t changed since her last visit, she thought, giving it a quick once-over with discerning eyes. She would never enter this place without remembering the day she’d come shopping for a husband. Again, her good fortune shot through her like a golden arrow. What a man! she thought with a secret smile as she sat in the chair near the sheriff’s small, cluttered desk, which showed nicks at its corners where spurred boots had been propped.

“Is this about Mr. Adams?” she asked, finding no other reason why the sheriff would seek her out.

“Yes, ma’am, it is.” Sheriff Warwick sat behind his desk, shuffled through parchments, and came up with one in particular. “I got this yesterday and just haven’t had the time to ride out and tell you about it.”

He brought the paper almost to his nose. “My eyes are failing me lately. Says here that your Mr. Adams is innocent of all charges.” He placed the paper on his desk and smoothed it flat before looking at her.

“Innocent?” Zanna repeated, her heart slowing to the dull beat of a funeral dirge. “How can that be? He was found guilty by a judge, wasn’t he?”

“Yes, that’s right, but come to find out, he was telling the truth all along. He was framed.”

“Framed.” Zanna listened to her plodding heart. Of course he was framed, she thought. She’d known without
a doubt that Grandy was too proud to cheat and lie and steal horses. “What changed the judge’s mind?”

“The fellas who testified against Adams had a change of heart and ’fessed up about lying. They said Adams won their money and the horse fair and square, but they were sore losers. Some of them were lawmen and got into some other trouble. Once they started confessing, they didn’t stop and Adams’s name came up.” The sheriff shrugged. “Guess it’s a good thing he wasn’t hanged.”

“Yes, a good thing.”

“You’ll tell him, won’t you? Him being innocent makes your contract with him no-count, but I’m sure he’ll want to still be your husband.”

“Sheriff,” Zanna said, sitting on the edge of the chair and leaning closer in a conspiratorial posture, “by ‘no-count’ do you mean that Mr. Adams is no longer
legally
my husband?”

“No, ma’am!” Sheriff Warwick chuckled and stroked his walrus mustache. “Don’t mean that a’tall. The marriage is legal. To get out of it, you’d have to get Booker or some other shyster to work out some kind of legal mumbo jumbo.”

“An annulment?”

“I guess so. But you don’t have to split the blanket between you.”

“Yes, I know.” Zanna cleared her throat nervously, dreading each verbal step into territory she feared. “Sheriff, does this mean that Mr. Adams can choose to leave? That is, if that’s his bent? What I’m wanting to understand is, does this mean I can’t force him to stay and work on Primrose?”

Sheriff Warwick rubbed his jaw thoughtfully. “Yes’m, that’s what it means all right. In a nutshell, Grandville Adams can do anything he pleases, long as it’s lawful. He’s a free man, same as any other man on the street. He’s no hanging husband anymore.” He rested a big hand on hers. “But don’t you worry none. No man in his right
mind would want to leave a fine, pretty lady like you. Of course, if you want to show him the door, now’s the time to do it.”

“Yes, well …” She stood up, knees shaking, heart pounding in her throat, and panic building in her chest. “I must be going. Thanks for the news, sheriff. Very kind of you, very kind.” She hurried from the dark office, one goal in mind—to get to Theo’s office where she could blurt out the news and beg for his wise advice.

“S’long, Mrs. Adams,” the sheriff called after her.

“Good day, sheriff.” Lifting her skirts with one hand, Zanna practically trotted down the boardwalk toward Theo’s office. She raced up the outside flight of stairs and threw open the door without bothering to knock.

Theo, sitting at his desk, jumped to his feet at her intrusion.

“Zanna! What …” His voice trailed off as he tore his gaze from her flushed face to the man sitting beside his desk. “Zanna, I’m speaking with Mr. Chester Williamson right now, but if you’d care to wait a few minutes …”

“Yes,” she said, swallowing hard and trying to catch her breath. “Hello. Pardon my interruption. I’ll wait outside.”

“You can wait in my quarters, if you wish,” Theo said, pointing to a door that led to his modest two rooms.

“No. I’ll be out here.” Zanna shut the door again and leaned weakly against the railing, telling herself not to be such a Chicken Little. The sky hadn’t fallen yet. When she and Theo put their heads together, a solution would pop up. She was sure of it.

It seemed like hours before Theo escorted Mr. Williamson from his office, but logic told Zanna that no more than half an hour had expired.

“Come in, come in,” Theo said, catching her by the elbow and pulling her inside his office, which smelled of leather and bookbinding paste. “Do you know Mr. Williamson?”

“He’s the schoolmaster, isn’t he?”

“Yes. Please sit down.” He politely pushed her into the most comfortable of his leather wing chairs. “He’s having his will prepared. He has six children and wants each to have a fair—” Theo peered at Zanna through his glasses. “What
is
it, Zanna? Is Duncan being a bully again?”

She shook her head and removed her bonnet with trembling hands. “It’s not Duncan. It’s Grandy.”

“That rapscallion! I
knew
he’d try something vile. Didn’t I warn you, Zanna? Didn’t I predict he’d grow weary of waiting and would pounce like some—”

“Theo, it’s not that.” She sighed, memories of last night soaring like gorgeous birds through her mind. But she couldn’t tell Theo about them. It would break his heart to know she’d loved another man with a passion she’d never known she possessed. “I’ve just come from the sheriff’s and he had rather disturbing news for me.” She glanced toward his desk. “May I have a glass of water? It’s warm outside and I’m rather parched.”

“But of course!” Theo leaped to pour her a glass of water and hand it over. “I worry about you all the time, Zanna. If my work didn’t keep me here so much, I’d ride out and check on you every day or so.”

“There’s no need for that,” Zanna said. “Thank you, Theo. I feel better now.”

Theo rested his clasped hands on top of his desk and fixed worried eyes on her. “So, tell me. I’m here to help in whatever way I can. You know that.”

“Yes.” Zanna smiled at him, loving his true-blue spirit. “I know that and I’m so thankful to have you as my friend.” She set her mind to the latest twist in her life. “It seems that Grandy has been proven innocent of his crimes and his sentence has been overturned.”

Theo fell back in his chair, his mouth open. “Good heavens! The sheriff told you this?”

“Yes, he did. The men who charged Grandy have admitted that they lied.”

“Why did they lie?”

“Because they’re sore losers. Grandy won their money fairly and they couldn’t stand it, so they accused him of cheating and stealing a horse.”

Theo blinked behind his spectacles as he sorted through the information. “That changes things, doesn’t it?”

“Theo, Grandy is a free man! The sheriff says our contract is no longer valid. Is that right?”

He came around the desk to kneel beside Zanna’s chair. “The sheriff’s right. You’re free of him. Zanna, I want to marry you.”

“Theodore, I didn’t come here for a marriage proposal. It’s dear of you to offer it, but I’m already married. I came to ask your help in keeping Grandy on Primrose even though my contract is no longer valid.”

“What? You can’t mean it!”

“But I do.”

Theo stared at her long and hard. “Why do you want him to stay? Why not let him go along his merry way?”

“Because I …” She shook her head, unable to state the bold truth to him—that she loved her husband. “Just tell me how I can keep Grandy.”

He bent at the waist, peering intently at her. “Have you fallen in love with this man behind my back?”

“I haven’t done anything
behind your back,”
Zanna said, staring at her hands folded in her lap and resenting Theo’s attitude.

“Zanna, you
haven’t
fallen in love with him, have you? I would go through fire for you. Would he? I’d die for you. Would he? I’d—”

“Stop it, Theo!” She rose from the chair and took him firmly by the shoulders. “Sometimes you frighten me, Theo. I don’t want you to put my life before yours. I never wanted that. Even when Fayne was alive and you and I were imagining how it would be if he were out of the way and Primrose was mine, I never wanted you to kill for me or to forge any documents for me. I was just dreaming to
keep myself sane. It was never real to me, Theo. None of it.”

He averted his gaze, but not before she saw a flash of guilt in his eyes that sent a chill through Zanna. Theo
had
drawn up the will without Fayne’s knowledge or consent.

“Theo,” she said, drawing out his name. “The will …”

“—was perfectly legal,” he insisted with a huffy sigh. “How many times must I state it?”

“But Fayne wasn’t the kind of man who—”

“I thought you came here to discuss your present husband,” he interrupted starchily, setting her back on track with a jolt.

Her bonnet had fallen from her lap to the floor, so she bent down and retrieved it while her mind tripped over her dire situation. “Grandy is an innocent man. I can’t tell him about that. If I do, he’ll leave.”

Theo sat behind his desk again and ran his hands through his sparse hair, making it stand on end in places, then smoothing it back down with purposeful strokes. Zanna sat down again, bonnet perched in her lap, and released a choppy sigh.

“I didn’t set my heart for Grandville, you know. At first, I couldn’t stand being in the same room with him, but then we became acquainted and I discovered a soft place in my heart for him. I knew he was innocent of the crimes he’d been accused of even before the sheriff told me.”

“He must not love you.” Theo arched his brows above his glass frames. “You said he’d leave as soon as he learns he’s a free man, so he doesn’t feel the same about you as you feel about him. Correct?”