Jane Bonander (10 page)

“Where would you go without money?”

She shrugged. “Into that town down the road. Surely I could find a job there.”

He stiffened. “Hatter’s Horn is no place for a young lady.”

“I’m beginning to think this,” she said, swinging her arms to indicate the ranch, “is no place for me.”

Spitting out a curse, he pulled her around to face him. “What in the hell is wrong with my offer? Any woman within a hundred miles would jump at the chance to become my wife.”

She stared at him, incredulous. “Well, pin a rose on your nose, you cocky bastard. Go find one, then.”

He lifted a brow. “Name calling isn’t very ladylike, Dinah. Now go get ready. We leave for the chapel in two hours.” He released her and returned to the smithy.

She planted her fists on her hips again. “Haven’t you heard a word I’ve said?” Receiving no answer, she stormed off.

She was calling him every vile name she’d ever learned when she heard laughter. Curious, she followed the sound, which took her down a path past the barn. There, in a shady grove, sat Leeta, surrounded by a group of children.

She was telling them a story, one that had them in stitches.

Leeta saw her and waved.

Dinah returned the greeting and tried to smile as Leeta rose and came toward her. “Good morning.”

Leeta beamed at her.
“Buenos días.
”

Dinah nodded toward the children, who were watching them. “Whose children are these?”

A softness stole over Leeta’s pretty features. “Three of them are mine. The others are … well, they have no families. They will soon, though.”

Dinah frowned. “But, where do they live? I haven’t seen any of them before.”

“Oh, they live here. For now, over there.” She pointed to a long, low bungalow that was nearly hidden in a thicket of trees. “But they have just returned from school.”

“School?”

“
Si.
Tristan, he sends them to the reservation school. They stay there and learn to read the English, and when it is time to plant, they come home.”

“They work here? Like field hands?”

“
Si,
but Tristan does not work them hard. It is only to make them learn the value of the money he pays them.”

Dinah looked past her at the ring of children. Most were in their early teens, some younger. The smallest one she knew was Leeta’s own child, who was perhaps no older than six or seven years. “Why does he do this, Leeta?”

“It is because of something he learned after discovering he had a twin brother.” She gave Dinah a delicate shrug. “I do not know exactly what it is, but it is a fine thing to do,
si?”

Though she was curious and puzzled, Dinah nodded.

“So, are you excited about your wedding?”

She gave Leeta a wry smile. “About as thrilled as being led to the hanging tree.”

Leeta frowned. “You are not excited?”

“It’s only a marriage of convenience, Leeta. It’s a business deal. I don’t see how I can possibly go through with it.” Merely speaking of it made her angry.

“I see,” Leeta murmured. “Why, then, are you so upset?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean,” she explained, “if you know it’s only business, why does it bother you?”

“Well, because …”

“Because you don’t want it to be business?”

Dinah expelled a whoosh of air. “I don’t know. It goes against everything I’m feeling. He’s so blasted arrogant, assuming all he has to do is offer marriage and I’ll fall to the floor and gratefully kiss his feet. Why do men think they’re God’s gift to the world?”

Leeta’s smile was shy. “Tristan is a fine man. I know many girls who would marry him under any circumstances, hoping that they could make him fall in love with them. Why, think about it. No matter what kind of marriage it is in the beginning, it is a marriage in the eyes of God. What you make of it depends on you.”

Dinah nibbled at her bottom lip. That part was true. The question was, did she want the marriage under any circumstances?

“I was thinking about going into Hatter’s Horn and finding a position there rather than go through with this sham.”

“There is nothing in Hatter’s Horn for a nice lady like you.”

“Surely someone could use my help. I could care for children, be a companion.”

“You have someone to care for here. I have not seen

Emily so content. It would be a shame to leave her. Whatever bad feelings you have for Tristan should not spill over onto Emily.”

Dinah massaged her temples, hoping to ward off a headache. “I don’t feel right about this. He makes a mockery of marriage.”

“He is just a man. You must make allowances for him. And have patience. Let him think he is winning. A man like Tristan Fletcher is worth fighting for, don’t you think?”

Dinah wasn’t sure. As far as she could tell, he was an insensitive clod. Oh, he was good to his sister and he was kind to animals and, obviously, to orphans, but that alone wasn’t enough to convince her he was anything special. Was it?

When she first arrived, she thought that once she’d gotten him to laugh he would be the perfect man. She knew now, that he was far from it.

As she gazed at the orphaned children, she began to feel there might be a compassionate man beneath his veneer. But it was one thing to provide for their physical care; it was quite another to become personally involved in their lives. She would have to learn more.

“I guess I’ll stay. For now, anyway.”

Leeta’s pretty face split into a wide smile. “Good. Then we will see you at the chapel.”

Leaving Leeta standing near the children, Dinah shoved her fists into the pockets of her robe and walked to the house. Her holier-than-thou attitude toward Tristan was ludicrous. At least he had been honest with her. He flat out told her what their life together would be like. For the duration of the contract, anyway. He’d been honest. Painfully so. That was more than she could say about herself.

Even dressed in a gown of pale ivory, her hair adorned with sprigs of white wildflowers, Dinah didn’t feel like a bride. The nervous knot in her stomach was something brides probably felt, but no doubt it was a knot of excited anticipation, not dread. And brides probably didn’t feel as if they were going to throw up.

She’d never imagined her wedding day to be anything less than a gala affair. Of course, that was before Mama and Papa died. Once at Trenway, she’d given up the idea of marriage completely. Too many painful thoughts crowded her mind. Even trying to imagine marriage to Charles wasn’t enough to replace the hurt. Stir together the anguish of Mama and Papa’s untimely death, add Charlotte’s, presumably by her own hand, which she didn’t believe for an instant, toss in Uncle Martin’s betrayal, and Dinah had been stripped of her innocence. Her youth. Her joy and reason for living.

But here she was, marrying a man she didn’t know, who had about as much common sense about life as a vacuous Boston debutante. He actually believed the incredible blather he spewed.

Before she saw the children, she’d been ready to leave the ranch. The sight of those children had stopped her. Leeta’s words had made an impression, too, although she wasn’t certain what to make of them yet.

She peered into the tiny chapel. It was surprisingly full. Alice was there, and Emily. Lucas and Leeta and their three children sat to one side, behind them sat the eight other children she’d seen earlier in the morning. Oh yes, she thought with a wicked twist of her mouth, and of course King Winterheart, himself.

Even now, knowing that it was a mockery, she felt a foolish, nervous excitement. But Tristan’s cold stare changed that, intensifying her nausea. She was going to throw up. She knew it. She swallowed and grimaced at the bitter taste in her mouth.

She’d had plenty of experience with insanity, and this whole idea was definitely insane. Taking a couple of deep breaths, she began the short walk to the front of the chapel. Not because she was eager for the marriage, but because at this point she felt she owed it to Emily to stay. Even under these circumstances. A fluttery part of her brain suggested that maybe everything would work out eventually. But work out to what end?

She stopped beside him. His gaze was on her.

“For God’s sake,” he muttered, “try to smile. In spite of how you feel, this isn’t a damned execution.”

“Don’t curse in church,” she scolded, staring straight ahead.

Tristan stood on the great stone steps and listened to the sounds of the night. Crickets chirruped in the grass. Years ago he’d built a bird bath down the hill next to the Jeffrey pines. Tonight he heard frogs croaking in the darkness and he knew the males and females had commandeered the bath until morning. Couples. Doing what all couples did. Except him and his new bride.

He felt a modicum of guilt as he’d watched Dinah walk down the aisle. Though her head had been high and her chin at a stubborn angle, he’d known she was putting on an act. Her hand had trembled beneath his own as they stood before the minister.

He hadn’t meant to call her life pitiful. She’d had no control over what had happened to her; he had been unfair. And he’d probably hurt her feelings, too. It wasn’t like him to treat a woman this way.

When the short ceremony was over, he had bent to kiss her. Her translucent lids with their russet lashes had fluttered closed, and her perfect mouth had been soft, pliant. He’d intended to kiss her cheek. At least he thought he had.

Afterward, Alice had insisted they open one of the bottles of champagne he’d bought in San Francisco on his last visit. The children got cider. A cake and cookies miraculously appeared, and they had a small celebration, in spite of his insistence that they not. Of course, he hadn’t argued very hard. He wasn’t a slave master, each of his workers needed time to let down his hair.

Besides, he’d enjoyed snagging gazes with Dinah. She had blushed like a real bride. He’d felt a warm, swimming sensation as he watched her. It was the damnedest thing.

He should attach a clothespin to the end of his randy root to remind himself to behave.

As they’d stood together before the minister, he thought he would experience panic. He had experienced something, but it wasn’t panic. It was … pain. And pleasure. He cursed, then cursed again. This wasn’t going as smoothly as he’d expected.

His marriage vows were mere hours old, and his only companions were his hounds. He was the pitiful one. The sky was rife with stars, the air crisp and clean. He caught a hint of honeysuckle that grew up the trellis near the gazebo. The wind was from the west.

With a dry smirk, he wondered what Dinah would smell. No doubt she’d be able to detect rabbits copulating at one hundred feet. And, he thought, his smile softening, she’d tell him about it, too.

He shook himself. How in the bloody hell would he get through another day or week without kissing her again? But kissing would lead to other things, and if he was nothing else, he was honorable.

There was a flickering light in the smithy. Tristan stepped off the porch and crossed the grass, the dogs at his side. He found Lucas bent over the blade of a hand plow.

His forearm swore and shook his head. “What are you doing roaming around? I’d sure as hell think you had better things to do tonight.”

“What I do with my time is my business.”

Tristan watched Lucas work. He was the most talented blacksmith in the area, having learned the craft from his father.

“So, what are you doing out at this hour?”

“You’re not going to leave it alone, are you?”

Lucas grinned. “Not even if you take a swing at me.”

Tristan returned the smile. “Keep an eye on who comes and goes, will you?”

Lucas stopped working and took a drink of water. “I always do.”

“I mean, keep a real sharp eye.”

At the mysterious tone, Lucas focused his attention. “What’s wrong?” .

“So far, nothing. Let me know if anyone comes around asking about Dinah.”

Lucas dropped the dipper into the pail and wiped his mouth with his sleeve. “Come to think of it, someone already has. Well, they didn’t exactly ask about her.”

Dread shot through Tristan like a dart. “Who? When?”

“Must have been a week ago.” He gave Tristan an apologetic glance. “I didn’t think much of it at the time. I mean, he didn’t actually call her by name or anything.”

Tristan reined in his alarm. “Tell me exactly what happened.”

Lucas bent to the plow blade. “I was near the road. Dinah was hanging clothes on the line. It was the day we discovered the bread in the chicken coop,” he added, his eyes briefly flashing humor.

Tristan made an impatient movement with his hand. “Go on.”

“A peddler came by. Had all the trappings. It didn’t dawn on me that he could be anything else, and I’m not sure he
wasn’t
a peddler, Tris. We talked for a few minutes, then stopped and watched her. He wasn’t offensive in any way, he was very mannerly. All he said was, and I remember it well because I was thinking the same thing, ‘Her hair sure catches the light, don’t it?’

“I made some comment about it being bright as a new penny or some such nonsense.”

“Then what did he say?” Tristan’s jaw was tight.

“He asked if she was my wife.”

“And?” Tristan held his breath.

“And, nothing. Hell, Tristan, I didn’t have a reason to keep anything a secret.”

Tristan nearly grabbed Lucas by the collar, but stopped himself. “What was your answer?” He repeated the words with emphasis.

Lucas swore again and rubbed his neck. “I told him that Dinah wasn’t my wife but that she soon might be yours.”

Tristan groaned, smacking a post with his fist. “You used her name?”

“Tristan, I apologize. Leeta and I had thought she’d be good for both you and Emily. How in the hell was I to know someone was looking for her?”

Tristan took long, steady breaths. “It was my fault. I should have told you sooner.”

“Told me what?”

“I’m going to tell you what I know. When I’m done, we’ll be the only two who know about this. Besides Dinah. But right now, she doesn’t even suspect that I know the truth.”

After he’d finished the story, he watched the anguish on Lucas’s face as he cleaned up his work area. “A hell of a life for a young, pretty girl, her own uncle doing this to her.”