Summer Breeze (31 page)

That being the case, it was with a sense of sadness that Joseph saw the courtyard walls grow taller. Before he knew it, the project would be completed, Darby would return, and he would have no reason to stay on with Rachel.

Joseph tried to tell himself that he'd be pleased as punch to have his life back to normal again.

Calving season was drawing to an end. He'd be free to go into town on Friday nights to play poker and pursue other pleasures. And, hey, he'd be able to sleep in a regular bed again. But somehow none of those thoughts

cheered him. He had a challenging poker opponent in Rachel, and the idea of a two-dollar poke in the upstairs rooms of the Golden Slipper now held little appeal. There was only one woman he wanted. And unless he was prepared to marry her, he couldn't, in good conscience, have her.

One afternoon when Ace came over to lend a hand with the courtyard walls, Joseph blurted out his troubles.

He began with, "How do you know when it's the real thing, Ace?"

Slathering mortar over a section of rock, Ace sent Joseph a sidelong look. "When what's the real thing? If you're talking about gold, you bite it."

Joseph swore under his breath. "You know very well what I'm talking about. Why are you always so dad-blamed difficult?"

Ace chuckled. "The last time I even
hinted
at that, you damned near took my head off. Oh, no, little brother. You want to talk about it, you're going to say the word straight out."

Joseph slapped a rock into place on the wall with such force that the impact jarred his teeth.

"What's in a word? It's the feeling that matters."

"Yeah, and if you can't put a name to the feeling, you have a problem."

Joseph added another rock, this time with a little less force. "All
right,
damn it. I think I may be in love with her."

"If you only
think
you're in love with her, you're not. There's no thinking to it when it happens.

You

can't breathe for wanting her, and the mere thought of losing her ties your guts into knots."

When Joseph thought of leaving Rachel to return home, knotted guts were the least of his troubles. His heart actually hurt. "I reckon I love her, then." He slapped another rock into place.

"Only what if I'm wrong? What if my feelings for her fade? I've never had any constancy with women. You know that."

"Before he falls in love, what man does?" Ace wiped a speck of mortar from his lean cheek.

"Love brings about changes of heart you can never imagine until they happen to you."

"What kind of changes?"

Ace mused over the question for a moment. "Well, for one thing, if you're really in love, you're ruined for all other females."

Joseph muttered none too happily under his breath again.

"And when you're truly in love, what you once regarded as a huge burden and responsibility, namely a wife and kids, suddenly is a pleasure. You
want
the responsibility, and when that first child comes into the world, instead of thinking of the scary stuff, you're so proud you think you'll bust."

"Little Ace is a fine boy. I don't blame you for being proud."

"I can tell you this. You've never felt love until you hold your own little baby in your arms. If he sneezes, your heart almost stops for fear he's taking sick, and you wake up in the dead of night to poke a finger under his nose just to make sure he's still breathing.

And if by chance he's between breaths and you feel nothing, pure panic seizes you."

"Sounds like a bad case of influenza to me."

Ace grinned. "I reckon that's why we don't
decide
to fall in love. It just happens upon us. Later in the marriage, I reckon there are times when love does become a decision—along about the time your wife gets her monthly curse, and the sweet, angelic little gal you married suddenly snarls at you like a hydrophobic dog. When that happens, you
decide
to love her anyway and don't snarl back."

"When has Caitlin ever snarled at you?"

"Hasn't—yet. But she's been grumpy as all get-out a few times. In short, Joseph, your feelings for a woman do change after a time. It doesn't stay fresh and exciting forever."

"I knew it."

Ace nodded sagely. "One day you wake up, and you realize you know everything there is to know about her. You've heard all her stories. You know what she's going to say before she says it. Your feelings change, plain and simple. The excitement of new love is gone."

"You see?" Joseph slapped another rock into place with such strength that mortar splattered in all directions. "That's exactly my worry, that I'll make a commitment and then wake up one morning with changed feelings."

"It'll happen," Ace said with absolute certainty. "And that's the best part of all, the changes that come with time."

Joseph gave his brother another sharp, questioning look.

"When the excitement fades, the real love takes over," Ace went on. "It's there from the start, I reckon. It's what brings two people together. But in the beginning the real love is overshadowed by all the excitement and newness. When the excitement wears off, you get down to the reality of love, and that's the best part."

"If the excitement goes, how can that be the best part?"

"Don't confuse excitement with passion. Caitlin still excites me that way as no other woman ever has—or ever will. I'm talking about in between those times, when you're troubled and she understands without your ever saying a single word. Or when you sit with her on the porch of an evening to watch the sunset, and you find that just holding her hand and being with her is the best part of your whole day. Love gets comfortable, sort of like your favorite pair of boots."

Joseph braced his hands against the wall and stared down at his Justins. He wouldn't trade them for a dozen new pairs and dreaded when they wore out. "So that's how I'll feel about Rachel in five years—like she's my favorite pair of boots?"

Ace snorted with laughter. "Not exactly, no. But something like that. I've never been good with words, Joseph. You know that. All I'm saying is, the new wears off, and the feelings change. For instance— have you ever seen a really,
really
pregnant woman who walks with her back arched and her feet spread

wide to keep her balance, and thought she was the most beautiful female you'd ever seen in your life?"

Joseph shook his head. "No, I can't rightly say I have. Pregnant women mostly just look swollen up and awkward, if you ask me."

"Same here. I'd never seen a pregnant woman I thought was beautiful until Caitlin was big and pregnant with Little Ace. And then, let me tell you, my eyes were opened. In my opinion, she'll never be more beautiful than she was during the last weeks of her pregnancy. I think she's gorgeous now. Don't get me wrong. But she was flat
beautiful
then. Sometimes I'd look at her and get tears in my eyes."

Joseph saw a suspicious gleam of wetness in his brother's eyes even now. Old boots and pregnant women? A part of Joseph just didn't get it, but another part of him—the part in his heart that hurt at the thought of leaving Rachel—sort of understood.

"I don't want to hurt her," he told his brother. "You know what I'm saying? Before I say a word to her, I need to be absolutely sure that my feelings for her are real and lasting."

"You're a good man, Joseph. And knowing you as I do, it's my guess that you wouldn't be wrestling with all these questions if you didn't love the girl. That's part of it, you know, never wanting to cause her pain. When that becomes one of your biggest concerns, you're usually already gone coon."

Later that same afternoon when Joseph was riding in from a tour of Rachel's land, he encountered David on the road that led up to the house.

"Hey, big brother," David called. "What're you doing out here? I thought you had to stay close to Rachel."

"Normally do." Joseph drew Obie into a trot to ride apace with David's gelding. "Ace is spelling me for a bit. I went over to check on things at home. Then I rode the fence line over here and checked on the cattle. Darby runs fewer than twenty head, but they still require a look-see every now and again."

"How's Darby doing?" David asked.

"Chomping at the bit to be out of bed. He's looking real good. What brings you out this way in the middle of the afternoon?"

"The circuit judge came to town. He slapped Jeb Pritchard with a steep fine for shooting at us that afternoon when we rode over to his place, threatened him with a six-month jail sentence if he ever does it again, and turned the old bastard loose."

Joseph wasn't happy to hear that. "Damn it. After all we did to put the son of a bitch behind bars?"

"I hear you," David commiserated, "but once the judge rules on a case, it's out of my hands. I figured you needed to know." He gazed out across the pas-tureland. "Best be keeping a sharp eye out, just in case. If he's our man, he's fit to be tied right now and spoiling for trouble."

Joseph shook his head. "That's the flaw in circuit judges. They have no idea what's happening locally and make stupid rulings."

"Well, there's one bright note," David replied. "My jail smells a hell of a lot better with that old coot out of there." As they approached the house, David whistled. "You've flat been working, son. Looks to me like you've got that courtyard almost done.

Before you know it, Darby will be back to full steam and you'll be free to make tracks."

"In another week, I reckon."

The knowledge that his time with Rachel was running out made Joseph feel as if a steel band were being tightened around his chest.

The last day of the courtyard wall construction, half the town showed up to add the finishing touches. Joseph had told Bubba about Rachel's list of courtyard appointments, and Bubba had passed the information on to Sue Ellen, who evidently had a habit of flapping her jaw almost as hard as she worked. Everybody and his brother seemed to know exactly what Rachel wanted, and they were hell-bent to see that she got most of it.

Bubba brought the ironwork. Sue Ellen came with a second wagon filled with cuttings from her garden. Ron and Diana Christian showed up with a beautiful bench that the sawyer had crafted after hours. In one of his rare moments of defiance against his skinflint wife, Harrison Gilpatrick arrived bearing rosebushes that he had already ordered from Sacramento for the spring planting season. Several ranchers and their wives brought yet more plants that they'd taken from their own yards. Jesse Chandler, the chimney sweep, and his wife, Dorothy, who ran the local candle shop, brought three birdhouses that he had made and she had decorated. Doc Halloway contributed a birdbath that he claimed he never used.

Joseph was overwhelmed by his neighbors' generosity. "Thank you. Thank you so much."

The responses Joseph received all rang with one common note, a generosity of spirit that nearly brought tears to his eyes; "It's nothing." "It's our pleasure." "We just pray she can come out and enjoy the sunlight." He only wished Rachel could find the courage to open her door and personally thank everyone.

But that was wishing for too much. She had already come a long way in a very short time. Having so many people in her dooryard was probably terrifying for her. Fortunately, no one had arrived with any expectations. They'd come to work, and work they did. After the ironwork was laid out over the enclosure, everyone helped lay the final tier of rock to anchor the bars. The bolts to the garden gate were set right into the concrete, making the stout barrier of iron as close to being impenetrable as the rock to which it was attached.

The women worked within the enclosure on the aesthetic aspects of the courtyard. One of them came up with the idea of building small corner shelters atop the wall for nesting robins. Stepping-stones were laid out to wind through the flowers. Bubba's burly son, Eugene, dug a small pond—

Sue Ellen's idea, in lieu of a fountain—and Charley Banks lined it with mortar and rock to hold water. Garrett Buckmaster donated some goldfish from his own fishpond. Clarissa Denny, the dressmaker, supplied the fish food, purchased at the general store. Beatrice Masterson, the milliner, brought strips of sod from her own lawn to add small sections of green grass. Shelby Templeton,

the cobbler, and his wife, Penny, brought a sapling oak.

When all was done, Joseph teared up, an embarrassing moment for a man who'd always kept his emotions under tight rein. Caitlin hugged his arm and patted his chest. "It is beautiful, isn't it?"

Joseph had such a lump in his throat he could only nod. It was early in the season yet, so only the violets and crocus were in bloom, but the women had managed to make it look like an established garden, equal to anything Joseph had ever seen in San Francisco. It went beyond beautiful. Every inch of that courtyard had been created with loving and caring hands.

Ace saved Joseph the need to speak. "As you all can see, my brother is struck speechless, and well he should be. This is, beyond a doubt, the prettiest little garden I've ever seen. Miss Rachel is going to love it." Ace motioned toward the closed door. "She's got a peephole, you know. I'm sure she's peeking out even as I speak. This is a beautiful gift. There are no words to thank all of you."

The courtyard was so packed with people that Joseph feared the newly transplanted flowers might be trampled. Everyone stepped carefully, though. Sue Ellen White smiled and waved at the door.

"Hello, Rachel! Joseph did most of the work, but we hope you enjoy the little things we've added."

Others called out as well, saying they also had contributed very little but hoped she could enjoy the enclosure.

Rachel collapsed on a chair at the table and sobbed her heart out. All those people! For so many years, she'd felt alienated from everyone in town, convinced that they all thought her insane. To have them band together like this to give her an outdoor garden touched her so deeply that she had no words. She hadn't been forgotten, after all. They simply hadn't known how to help her.

She was still weeping when she heard the wagons begin to pull out. Soon she heard footsteps inside the house. She tried to dry her eyes, but the tears just kept coming.