Yellow Rose Bride (11 page)

“No,” she said pensively, “I believe the question was, do you like them?”

The standoff was getting on his nerves. “They're all right.”

She made a pouty face. “Just ‘all right'? It's a woman's place to accommodate her husband, and I desperately need to know your food preferences.”

“I don't want to be ‘accommodated,' Beth, I just want to know if you like burritos.”

The subject was downright infuriating, but for some reason he felt compelled to see it through.

“Dear me, I think we'd better change the subject.” Perching herself on the edge of the chair, she wagged her finger playfully at him. “Someone is getting cranky.”

Adam drummed a pencil on a chair back, his eyes boring into hers.

“Oh, whatever. Burritos aren't important. There's something far more important we need to discuss.”

Adam sat back down at the desk, waiting for the announcement. The bombshell wasn't long in coming.

“I'm going to ask Vonnie to make my wedding dress.”

He must have looked blank, because she clapped her hands together gleefully.

“Isn't it wonderful? I know it's extremely extravagant, but Father said I could. Now, the question is—do you want me to arrange for Vonnie to make the shirts for the men, or do you—”

Adam interrupted. “Beth, I don't think that's a good idea.”

She paused, blinking. “Why? She makes exquisite bridal gowns.”

“I know, but in view of everything that's happened recently, I don't think it's such a good idea. I understand that—”

“Her mother isn't doing well. I know. Cammy isn't adjusting to Teague's sudden demise, but honestly, darling, I can't imagine anyone but Vonnie making my dress. Why, she's simply the best there is. I wouldn't dream of having anyone else make it. Of course, we'll need to set a date. Early fall or late winter. Maybe spring…spring is nice.”

Adam sighed. “I don't think you should expect Vonnie to take on any more than she already has—especially now.”

“Darling! I wouldn't ‘expect' her to do it, though we've been friends for ages. She'll
insist
on doing it. Don't you see? I want the dress to be absolutely perfect,
and Vonnie's the only one I would trust to do it. You'll see, she'll be thrilled I asked her. Why, she'd be crushed if I didn't!”

Adam hardly thought Vonnie would be crushed.

“I'm only thinking of her—”

“Welfare. Of course you are, and that's so thoughtful of you, darling, but really, Vonnie and I will work it out. Now, about the shirts, do you want her to make them?”

He didn't want Vonnie to make the shirts. Or Beth's wedding gown. He attempted to divert Beth again.

“Beth. Vonnie's got her hands full with the ostriches, her mother isn't doing well, and I think—”

“It'll be too much for her? Heavens, no, it won't! She'll welcome the extra money, what with her father gone and all.”

Adam shrugged. The woman had her steel-trap mind made up.

She grinned. “You'll see, darling. It will be the most beautiful gown in the world. Do you like pure white silk or off white silk?”

“Either one.”

“Or maybe more of a vanilla,” she mused. “No. A yummy milk white—cream, maybe, no, magnolia-white—snow-white!

“Yes, snow-white with eggshell lace—no, oyster colored…or perhaps a nice ecru…”

 

Two birds were dead.

The startling discovery left Vonnie shaken. Genaro and Roel came to the house early with the grim news.

Vonnie hung on the fence, her fingers caught in the wire, watching the ostriches pace the length of the pens. What had caused the birds' deaths? Thankfully, they were not adults, but still it was a costly loss.

The birds strutted around the pen, oblivious to what had happened. Large eyes blinked slowly back at her as they peered over the top of her head. Occasionally they paused to peck at an object on the ground.

It was precisely the pecking that concerned Vonnie.

In spite of her best efforts, the birds had gotten hold of foreign material. Bits of baling wire had been found caught in the deceased birds' throats.

Baling wire!

Teague would roll over in his grave if he knew. Genaro and Roel patrolled the pens every morning and evening to avoid exactly this kind of threat.

The birds were never exposed to rocks or pieces of glass or string that they could pick up and swallow. They could easily choke to death on foreign matter.

Vonnie had even taken to raking the pens herself, picking up any tiny object that might attract the curious creatures. Had they picked up the killing material when they were on the loose?

Teague had lost a few of the birds to illness or bad weather, but never through neglect. She pressed her face against the wire. Her father had been gone less than a month, and already she had managed to lose two of his prized stock.

Drawing a deep breath, she vowed to be more alert.
She would talk to Genaro and Roel and they would all redouble their efforts to protect the birds.

“Suki, I'm not very good at this,” she confessed to the dog.

Suki yawned widely and sat down on her haunches.

The sound of an approaching horse drew Vonnie away from the fence. Shading her eyes with one hand, she groaned aloud when she recognized the rider, Sheriff Lewis Tanner. Crooked as a dog's hind leg, and the very last person she wanted to see.

Tanner, a stocky man with a dark beard, drew his bay up alongside Vonnie. She fanned dust away from her face, irritated at his thoughtlessness.

“Morning, Miss Taylor. How are you this fine day?”

“What brings you out this way?”

Though Lewis Tanner was a neighbor on the south, owning fifty acres adjoining the Taylor land, there was little neighboring going on between the two families, especially since Teague's death. For years, Lewis had wanted to sell his property but claimed the birds were a hindrance to the sale.

“Got a serious prospect for your land.”

“My land isn't for sale.”

“Sure it is—little lady like you can't run this ranch.”

Suki growled. Saddle leather creaked as the sheriff shifted his massive weight, eyeing the dog warily.

“I repeat. My land isn't for sale.”

“Best reconsider. If my prospect saw the birds—” he nodded to the ostriches “—he might not be so eager
to buy. As it is, he's offering a handsome price, sight unseen.”

“If he'd dislike my birds, then why would he want to buy them?”

He shrugged. “Assets.”

She pulled off her bonnet. “They're more than assets to me, Sheriff Tanner. You best move along.”

The dog growled, and the horse shied. The sheriff shifted from side to side in the saddle.

“Well now, ma'am, I think I could convince my buyer to keep the birds, if that's your terms. That's something to consider. If you were to sell to anyone else, they might not be so obliging.”

Suki growled again and got up to investigate the sheriff's horse.

“Heard they got loose the other day and created quite a ruckus. Heard the Baldwins had to bring them back.”

“That was an unusual circumstance, I assure you.”

The sheriff's horse shook its head at the dog and sidestepped nervously.

“Suki, get away,” Vonnie reprimanded quietly.

“Unusual or not, the fact is they're a nuisance, ma'am. Now, I can sell this property and you can leave the birds here. With your papa gone an' all, you need to be thinking about selling out.”

Vonnie's lips firmed.

“Your pa's gone, Miss Taylor, and I hear tell your ma ain't doing so good. Since it don't appear that you can handle those birds, you best get out while the
gettin's good.” Leaning over, he spit a stream of tobacco on the ground. Wiping his mouth on his shirtsleeve, he smiled. “When you think about it, what choice you got?”

She took offense at his audacity. What made the men in this area so interested in her business, anyway?

“Keep them?” she guessed, realizing too late that the sheriff had no sense of humor.

Lewis Tanner had a reputation for meanness, and he was indiscriminate about whom he vented his temper upon. It was well-known that his friends were men who should be in the sheriff's cells instead of in his parlor drinking moonshine liquor. There were those in the community who wanted Tanner out of office but, fearing swift retribution, no one was willing to challenge his authority.

“Well, little lady.” Lewis looked into the distance as if carefully weighing his next words. “If you insist on bein' stubborn about this, I'll have to warn you. Keep your birds where they belong. It'd be a shame if more turned up dead—”

Before he could finish the implied threat, Suki jumped up, barking wildly, leaping at the sheriff's boot and startling the horse.

The ostriches began pacing the pens, flapping their wings nervously.

Glancing at the birds, Vonnie turned back to see the sheriff was trying to bring the big bay under control.

“Down! Down!” she shouted at the leaping dog. “Suki!”

“Remember what I said,” Tanner shouted from the back of his plunging horse. With a decided lack of grace, he gave his horse its head and galloped off.

Suki followed after him, barking.

Leaning wearily against the fence, Vonnie closed her eyes, her mind registering his thinly veiled threat. He would do what? Throw foreign objects in their pen?

“What is going on? Was that Lewis Tanner?” Vonnie looked up, surprised to see Franz standing not five feet away, his weathered face lined with concern. She hadn't heard him arrive. She must be unusually tired.

“It was Tanner all right.”

Walking toward her, Franz frowned. “What did that snake want?”

“To cause trouble, mostly.”

“Anything I can do to help?”

“Not unless you can bring two birds back to life, make Momma come out of her room and stop crying over those old photograph albums, sew a wedding dress…”

“Ah, poor child. Since your father died, everything's fallen on your shoulders. Maybe I can help. The birds? Chores? I would be happy if I could do something for you.”

Vonnie straightened, pushing her hair back off her face. “Oh, Franz, you've got your hands full with Audrey and your own chores. I couldn't ask—”

“You didn't ask. I'm volunteering.”

Vonnie weighed the merit of his generosity, know
ing it was prompted by their long-standing friendship. She knew he would be hurt if she didn't accept his offer.

“I'd be ever so grateful if you could help me. Since Daddy's gone there are so many things that need to be done, and I simply don't have the time to do them all, and the ranch hands have their hands full.”

“Good. Good.” He seemed genuinely pleased by her acceptance. “Tell me what I can do first.”

Together, they walked toward the house.

“Well, there's a mound of canned fruit that needs to be put on the shelf, water to carry to the birds. They drink a lot when it's this hot.”

“I can help Genaro and Roel keep them watered.”

“Then there's the step on the back porch. It's about ready to give way. Daddy had planned to fix it the day he died….” Her voice caught.

“I'll get the hammer and nails. Shouldn't take long to fix it.”

“There's a loose shutter on the front window, and the wind blew a shingle off the roof last night.”

“And then there's the cellar,” Franz added. “Teague kept meaning to get to it, but he never did.”

“Oh, yes, the cellar. I would appreciate it if you could clean it, so I can get the rest of the vegetables stored.”

“Don't worry your pretty head another minute. Franz is here.”

She left him at the steps and returned to work. In her sewing room she felt more in control. Familiar things
surrounded her—the smell of machine oil, her materials, buttons, threads.

The colorful bolts of cloth soothed her; the sight of lace on satin restored her fortitude. Sewing was something she understood, something she could control. When nothing else made sense, she sought refuge in her work.

But this time it wasn't working.

As she sat down at the treadle sewing machine, her mind was clouded. Would her mother ever get over Teague's death?

It was too soon for the grieving process to be completed, but she was so worried about her. Cammy sat in her room for hours on end, staring out the window. The few times she had ventured downstairs she sat in the parlor, weeping and poring over old photographs of Teague. It was as if half of her, the important half, had been stripped away.