Whispers of Moonlight (14 page)

Travis wanted to grab Lavena and shake her. She was standing in the kitchen, her face pale, and telling him that Andrew Wagner was dead. Travis knew it couldn't be true. Why would Lavena say such a cruel thing? It simply couldn't be true.

"He's not." Travis' voice was flat.

Lavena's eyes fixed on a distant spot out the window. "I only went to check on him." There was a note of amazement in her voice. "He's still in bed. It must have happened in the night."

Travis' hands fisted at his side.
No,
his mind screamed at God,
You can't do this. He was fine yesterday, and last night, better than ever. How could You?

The thoughts halted when he remembered his wife. How in the world would he tell her? He'd left her sleeping like a child, and now he must wake her and destroy her world. If that wasn't enough to make Travis writhe in pain, the next thought made his heart clench in agony. He cared for his wife beyond all description, but . ..

Everyone will think I married Rebecca for the ranch.

"No one had better say that around me." Lavena spat the words, and Travis stared at her. He hadn't meant to speak outloud.

"It's not true," Lavena went on, her bony chest heaving with indignation. "It doesn't matter what people say. Rebecca knows otherwise, and that's all that matters."

"Does she?" Travis suddenly doubted. "Does she know?"

Lavena shook her head. "That's your grief talking, Travis. You know she knows it."

"Lavena!"

The housekeeper's name was screamed from above them. Travis bolted for the stairs. He wouldn't have
to tell
Rebecca the news; she'd clearly found out on her own.

Feeling cold and alone, Rebecca sat in her bedroom later that day.
Travis had been the one to go to town and make arrangements for the burial, but in his own grief his manner had been curt. She wanted to cry in his arms, but she felt so frozen that she could not reach out to him. Her father was gone. It was too impossible to be true, but she'd seen the evidence with her own eyes. Andrew Wagner was dead. She hadn't even been home six months, and her father was now gone from her forever. He had warned her that this was the reason she should marry Travis, but Rebecca had believed that the very act alone would keep him alive.

In the next few seconds grief overtook Rebecca's good sense. What if Travis didn't take care of her? What if Travis decided to send her away and keep the ranch for himself? Rebecca had spent the previous evening in a happy cloud, sure that nothing could touch her secure world, but now she was alone—more so than when she had been halfway between Pennsylvania and Colorado Territory with no choice but to push on. Panic clawed at her throat, but it didn't last. Moments later, she was angry. Hannah Ellenbolt had done this. Hannah had kept her from her father, and now he was dead.

With movements that were almost vicious, Rebecca found paper and quill. The day was cloudy, so she lit a lantern, set it on her writing table, and began with a vengeance.

My eyes were so blinded, Hannah, but no longer. I can see now what you really
are. The lies I believed about my father now make me sick to my stomach. He's gone, and you're to blame! I'll never forgive you. I married a stranger! I was forced to marry my father's foreman, and all because you're a selfish, sick old woman! It's all your fault that I'm alone.

She went on for paragraphs, not meaning half of it, the words scathing and mean, but the end was near. Rebecca's mind moved to the love she always saw in her father's eyes, and with that she broke down. She crumpled the paper and threw it aside, sobbing into her folded arms.

Travis stood like a statue at the graveside of Andrew Wagner, not feeling the cold or seeing the blinding sunlight. The service had been over for an hour and still he stood, seeing his mother's grave as clearly as the one before him. Lavena had said that Rebecca's lips were turning blue and had taken her back
to the house, but Travis could not make himself move. He had a beautiful wife, and he now owned a ranch, but Andrew Wagner was dead and Travis found no joy in his position. It niggled at the back of his mind that Rebecca needed him; they all needed him. He was the owner of the Double Star and they needed his stability, but right now he felt worthless.

How could You do this?
he asked God for what must have been the hundredth time, but no answer came. He was going to have to go on by himself. He was going to have to be strong for everyone else, even if he was dying inside.

Another hour passed before he began the walk back. Lavena had some food ready, but he wasn't hungry. He didn't ask after Rebecca, assuming she'd gone to her room. With measured tread he moved toward Andrew's study. Like no other in the house, this room was the man himself. His presence pervaded every nook and cranny. Travis wandered the floor, not touching anything, but looking and letting his eyes caress the huge desk, fine leather chair, and simple furnishings. Another hour passed before he sat very carefully in the desk chair. His eyes slid shut with pain, and fatigue overcame him.

His wife's pain at the moment was no less than his own, but added to the hurt was fear—fear that she would be sent away and left all alone in the world. It did nothing but cause more hurt and fear when she came down an hour later and found Travis asleep in her father's chair.

Lavena thought she would scream if she had to go another day with the silence in the house. Travis and Rebecca went through the day-to-day motions, but it was as if they'd died with Andrew. Her own grief knew no bounds, but she forced herself to keep on. Three days. Could it be only three days since they'd laid him in the ground? It was amazing that they'd been able to dig the frozen earth. It looked like spring would come early, but no one took notice.

It also crossed Lavena's mind that Travis and Rebecca had been married for one week. But as they were in such obvious pain, it gave her no joy. She knew deep in her heart that they could make a go of it. The love she'd seen in their eyes for each other had given that secret away. And even though the circumstances surrounding their marriage had been unusual, Lavena knew their hearts were involved.

And indeed, Lavena was right. Travis and Rebecca did care deeply for each other. In fact, they were both to the point of needing to reach out to the other. Travis came off the range early to Find Rebecca and talk to her, but Biscuit, who was now Travis' responsibility, had a gripe. The crotchety old man was waiting for him in the barn.

"I'm not gonna put up with it," he spat.

Travis sighed but kept his expression open. "What's the problem. Biscuit?"

The old man spat again. "There ain't no respect 'round here. No one tells me anything. I cook for six, but only four show up. Why, I—" and on he went.

Travis wanted to tell him he sounded like a fussy old woman but refrained. What did it matter how much food he fixed, especially in winter when things would keep? Biscuit often served the leftovers the next night anyhow, and the men never raised much of a fuss.

"I can see you won't be any help. You just care about the money."

He had Travis' full attention now.

"What is that supposed to mean?" His voice was cold.

"You know very well."

Travis saw a bitterness in the man's eyes that he had never noticed before.

"At least she's pretty," Biscuit added contemptuously, "which makes it a little easier, I'd say."

Travis was angry enough to plow his fist into the man's face but only gritted out, "I think you'd better shut your mouth, Biscuit."

"Can't stand to hear the truth, boy? Is that your problem?"

Travis didn't answer him but turned and walked out, never once seeing his wife in the shadows of a stall. She had so needed to be near him that she'd come to the barn to await his arrival. Not wanting to talk to the cook, she had remained hidden. Now she wished she had run away and not heard a thing.

Rebecca made her way slowly back to the house, but didn't search out her husband or
Lavena. She came to the supper table, but Travis did not. He did not seek his own meal for many hours, so busy was he in the office, making plans for the ranch, in order to prove Biscuit wrong and make Rebecca the proudest woman in the Colorado Territory.

Had he made an appearance, Rebecca might have reconsidered, but by the time she crawled into bed and lay looking at the ceiling for most of the night, her mind was made up.

Lavena paced the floor like a caged animal waiting for Travis to come home. Her mouth was dry, as it had been all afternoon, and she thought that if he didn't hurry she'd be tempted to mount a horse and go find him. Her stomach churned.

After her husband drank himself to death eight years ago, she had walked out to the Double Star Ranch and told Andrew Wagner that he needed her. He had been ready to send her packing, but she had come prepared.

From seemingly nowhere, she had produced a pie. It had been in her bag, and the sight of the confection alone had halted Andrew in midsentence. It had taken her all afternoon to get to the ranch, and if he'd turned her away she was going to sneak into the barn and sleep before returning to town. But suddenly she was invited in. He never did tell her that she had the job, but while he devoured over half the pie, she started on the mound of dirty dishes in the kitchen. There had never been any talk of her leaving. She was now as much a part of the Double Star as the earth itself.

However, she was too old for this. She was too old for the heartache of seeing people in pain. She wasn't even 60, but days like this, days when her stomach churned and she had no answers, she felt like 100. All day she had paced between the living room windows, which gave her a view of the road, and the window in the kitchen, which gave her eyes a clear shot of the barn. She was in the living room when she heard Travis come in the back. With a hand to her heart she went to him. One look at her pale features and he knew something was wrong.