Yellow Rose Bride (4 page)

The coin Adam dropped into the judge's narrow hand disappeared into the pocket of the shiny suit jacket.

“Got a ring?”

“No, sir,” Adam said.

The judge eyed Vonnie. “You sure you want to do this, young lady?”

“I'm sure,” she said.

Adam slipped his arm around her and drew her closer to his side.

The judge dusted his coat and straightened it, then settled his hat more firmly on his head, tugging it down low on his forehead. Adam could barely see his eyes now.

“Do you love this…woman?”

“I do,” Adam said.

“You'll take care of her come sickness or other troubles?”

“I will.”

“No matter what happens, you'll stay with her?”

“I will,” he vowed. “We both believe in the gospel, sir. I'll take care of her.”

“Young lady, do you love this man?”

“I do,” she whispered.

“You'll take care of him in the good and bad times?”

“I will.”

“No matter what life hands you, you'll stick with him?”

“I will.”

“Then I pronounce you man and wife. Kiss your bride.”

Adam's arm tightened around her; his lips brushed hers. “I love you,” he whispered against her mouth.

“I love you, too.”

The judge bent to turn his bacon before it burned. “Where you heading now, young people?”

“We're staying with friends tonight,” Adam said.

“Then what?”

“Not sure.” At the time, he didn't want to think about tomorrow and what would surely happen.

“Planning on walking, are you?”

“We got horses, by the trees.”

“Uh-huh. Well, my blessin's to you both.”

“Thanks, Judge. Thanks a lot.” He looked at his bride. “Thanks a whole lot!”

“Have you spoken to Beth about the building plans?” P.K.'s voice broke into Adam's thoughts.

Getting up, he moved to the file cabinet. “No, but I'll get around to it.”

“Get around to it? Son, it takes time to build a house. We'll need to get the men started as soon as possible. You'll want to move your bride in shortly after the honeymoon, won't you?”

“I'll talk to Beth, Dad.” P.K. had raised his sons with an iron hand. No give, no take. His way or no way. Adam knew the land had been a hard taskmaster. Building a ranch the size of Cabeza del Lobo—Wolf's Head—out of the desert had been grueling, demanding more than most men could give. Many had folded up and left, selling out to the highest bidder, often P.K. His father had stuck it out, made his mark on the land. He'd done it without a wife's support, while raising four boys with a housekeeper's help. Adam respected him for that. They'd butted heads over a lot of things, but how to run the ranch wasn't one of them. P.K.'s cattle and horse instincts were still indisputable.

The Baldwin ranch was a sprawling establishment with patios and flowering gardens surrounding spacious
adobe buildings. P.K. owned four sitios of land, 73,240 acres, but he controlled more than a million acres. At the peak of his prosperity, the ranch supported 50,000 Hereford-graded cattle, 15,000 horses, and 6,000 mules. Some thirty Mexican and Opata Indian families lived on the ranch, harvesting hay, vegetables and fruit, in addition to overseeing the livestock. The Baldwin water supply was plentiful; five springs, creeks that flowed in the spring and fall, and an underground river easily tapped by wells.

Forty acres situated to the south of the main hacienda were reserved for Adam and his wife. Pat, Joey and Andrew had been allotted similar parcels with adjoining property lines.

P.K. had made sure that when his sons married, they had ample room to raise his grandchildren.

Adam knew that the prosperous appearances were deceiving. The past few years Cabeza Del Lobo had fallen on hard times, which was why P.K. was pushing for this marriage with Beth. Adam was expected to step up and do his duty for the good of the family. He sighed. Beth deserved a better man than he. She deserved to marry a man who loved her.

His thoughts turned to Vonnie and the feud between their fathers. Even now, when their children were grown, P.K. and Teague Taylor hated each other more than ever. Sometimes he caught P.K. staring at Vonnie—resenting her heritage? He was never sure. He had never openly spoken about the half Cherokee/half white
blood that ran through Teague's adopted daughter's veins. He'd known that Teague loved his child with great intensity and whatever lay between the two men, P.K. had never stepped over the line and used racial inequality to further inflame the rift.

Letting the curtain drop back into place, P.K. returned to the chair. “Noticed you drank punch with the Taylor girl last night.”

“Mmm,” Adam responded absently.

“Was that necessary?”

Filing a folder away, Adam closed the drawer. “Only being polite, Dad.”

P.K. grunted. “Noticed her useless father didn't bother to show up.”

“Did you really expect him to?”

“I expect nothing out of Teague Taylor.” P.K. took a swig of tonic.

The dispute between the two families had gone on for so long Adam had lost sympathy for either side. The act that had sparked his father's ire was never forgiven.

“Better leave that woman alone. She'll get you in trouble,” P.K. muttered.

Adam glanced up. “Who?”

“The Taylor girl.”

“Her name's Vonnie, and she's hardly a girl anymore.”

“Vonnie,” P.K. repeated. “I don't care what her name is—you leave her alone.” He was muttering. “I've seen her type. Sashaying around—turning men's heads with those strange-looking eyes. You leave her alone. And
you tell Andrew, Pat and Joey to do the same. There isn't a Taylor worth their salt.”

Adam couldn't remember how many times they'd had this conversation. It was getting old. “Why tell me? I'm engaged, remember?”

“Engaged or not, you keep your eyes to yourself.” P.K. frowned. “There was a time I worried about you and the Taylor girl.”

Adam glanced up.

“Don't think I didn't see the way you two looked at each other when you were younger. I'm not blind. Many a Sunday I considered throwing a bucket of water on you to cool you off. You were just lucky Alma convinced me that it was childish fancies. For a time, I was starting to wonder.”

Adam bent low over the desk. “I didn't look at Vonnie Taylor any certain way.”

“Don't tell me you didn't. I'll tell you now what I told you then. You stay away from the Taylors. All of them.”

“Personally, I think you overreact when it comes to the Taylors.”

“You don't know a thing about it. The Taylors are trash!”

“How can you say that? The Flying Feather is a respected ranch.”

“The Flying Feather, ha! Teague wouldn't have a red cent if he hadn't loaned his last dollar to the owner of a traveling sideshow and had to take that pair of ostriches as payment.”

“Maybe, but he took a pair of birds and built it into a sound business.”

P.K. scoffed. “Until Teague got stuck with those birds he was dirt-poor. The community felt sorry for Cammy Taylor having a baby girl she'd brought home to raise and Teague so broke he couldn't afford monthly staples. Man didn't have a lick of sense. If he had a dollar and someone gave him a hard-luck tale he'd hand it over. If it hadn't been for neighbor's charity, his family would have gone hungry many a day.”

Today the Taylor spread was the third largest in the community and thriving. A bitter pill for P.K. to swallow.

His father stared out the window, speaking absently, as if he had forgotten Adam was in the room. “Teague always acted like he was so holy and righteous. Butter wouldn't melt in his mouth he was so self-righteous. Well, in my book, it's a sin to let your family do without, especially when you could have done something about it.”

Adam pushed to his feet, his voice bordering on impatience. “For the life of me, I cannot understand what happened between you and Teague Taylor that made you such bitter enemies.”

P.K. looked over his shoulder, back ramrod straight, as if he had just now remembered Adam's presence. His features darkened. “It's between me and Teague.”

“So you've said for as long as I can remember. What you've failed to say is why the hatred runs so deep. All this talk of murder, jewels. None of it makes sense. If
you expect me to hate the Taylors as much as you do, you need to give me a reason. A solid reason.”

“My word is my reason. That's all you need.”

And it's all he'd get; Adam knew that only too well.

Turning from the window, P.K. downed the last of his tonic. “You won't forget to talk to Beth about the house plans?”

“I'll speak to her tonight.”

“Good. I'll tell Manny to start on your furniture. I thought cherry would be nice. Nice, big pieces—maybe done up in Aztec fabric in reds, blues and yellows. What do you think? Something colorful?”

Adam felt the familiar surge of resentment. P.K. controlled his son's life down to the furniture he would sit on.

“Beth and I haven't set a date, Dad.”

With a gesture, he brushed the detail aside. “It'll take a while to get the furniture built. No use waiting until the last minute. What do you think? Aztec fabric?”

Adam shrugged. “Talk to Beth.”

Moving back to the window, P.K. gazed out. Adam could see the pride glistening in his eyes. Cabeza Del Lobo had been built by sweat and hard work. No one had ever given P.K. Baldwin anything. He had taken ten acres and carved out an empire. He would die if he lost the place in payment of a bad note.

Teague Taylor had taken two birds and lucked out.

Adam studied his father from beneath lowered lashes. He stood at the window, his lean body more bent than Adam remembered, shifting his weight on
one leg. He suddenly found himself wondering what
had
taken place between Teague and P.K. to cause such bitter animosity?

He'd heard things like, the man's foolish. He wasn't worth his salt. Traitor to his own kind. But never a concrete motive for such resentment.

When he married Vonnie he'd been too young to approach P.K., to demand a reason for the dispute.

Now, all of a sudden, he wanted to know.

T
he night Adam married Vonnie Taylor he knew she was all he'd ever wanted from life. She'd looked so pretty in the flickering flames of the judge's campfire; he had thanked God over and over that she had taken vows to be his for the rest of their lives.

They'd ridden away together. Mr. and Mrs. Adam Baldwin. Just saying the words in his mind had thrilled him. An hour later they'd reached the boardinghouse that sat at the edge of a crossroads. The border town had a store, a church, a one-room school, a stable, three bars. Not much.

The aged lady, wearing a long gown and nightcap, who answered their knock was put out by their late arrival. They had to shout to make her understand they wanted a room for the night.

“You want what? Supper's over!”

“We don't need supper. We need a place to stay,” Adam shouted. “A room.”

“A broom! What do you want with a broom?”

“A place to sleep,” Vonnie offered, pantomiming sleeping by tilting her head and folding her hands against her cheek.

“We just got married!” Adam said.

She frowned. “Buried!”

Finally the old woman understood, directing them to a tiny but cozy room on the second floor of the two-story clapboard structure. Vonnie had climbed the stairs in silence. Once inside the room she had stood with her back to the door, looking as frightened as someone who suddenly had found herself on the edge of a cliff—and looking incredibly young, as well. He didn't feel all that old or wise at the moment.

He had gently turned her to face him, drawing her into his arms. He'd kissed her, but for once she didn't respond. Instead, she seemed reluctant…uncertain.

“What's wrong? Tell me.”

“Oh, Adam. We're really married?” Her slender body shook with emotion.

“That's right, we're married. Forever.” He held her tighter, liking the thought. Forever.

She shook her head. “What have we done? Oh, Adam, we're in bad trouble.”

He suddenly realized the enormity of their actions. He swallowed, wishing he could reassure her, but he didn't feel very sure himself. “It's all right, darlin'. We'll go tell our parents right now.”

“We can't tell your father! P.K. will rip my hide
right off and render me in hot oil. Oh, my stars! What are we going to do?” She broke free of his embrace, wringing her hands.

“It'll be all right. I…I love you. Everything will work out. P.K. and Teague will be mad—”

“Mad? Adam, mad? They'll be
furious.
”

She bit her lower lip so hard he thought she'd bite it clean through. He tried to console her but she resisted.

“We're married. There's nothing they can do.”

“Adam, I'm scared. Daddy will have the marriage annulled.”

“I won't let him.” He tried to take her into his arms, but she pushed him away. She suddenly seemed distant, not at all like the sweet angel he'd married.

“No, Adam. We've made a terrible mistake.”

“Calm down.” Panic rose in his throat. She stood against the door, trembling, her eyes shining with tears.

“They can never know,” she said.

Her eyes had met his and he would have done anything to erase the fear and remorse he saw. “Stop acting like this. You're making me crazy.”

“They can never know,” she repeated. “We'll pretend it never happened.”

The meaning of her words had gradually sunk in. Adam frowned. “Pretend we didn't get married?”

“It's the only answer. No one has to know, Adam, except us. Daddy can't know—he'd be so disappointed in me.”

“We love each other.”

“We're too young to love each other,” she said. “Daddy will have your hide. I'm too young to get married. So are you.”

Disbelief had settled over Adam. “You're more worried about what your father will think than how I feel?”

She shook her head wildly. “I'm worried about you, Adam. I mean it—Daddy will be wild with rage.”

“I agree he doesn't like the Baldwins…”

“He hates the Baldwins—your father hates the Taylors.”

“We both knew that when we got married.” His voice had started to rise. What was she doing? Fear coursed through him. “Why didn't that bother you before we got married?”

She had blinked up at him, tears soaking her lashes. Burying her face in her hands, she'd cried harder.

He glared at her. “Is that your answer? To bawl?”

“I can't face Daddy and tell him I married you. I can't.”

Adam heaved a sigh of pure frustration. “You're such a daddy's girl you'd forfeit my love for his pride?”

Nodding, she sobbed harder.

Something had snapped inside of him. Furious that she would leave him now—now when they had risked everything to be together. He refused to look at her.

“You can stop crying. I'm taking you home.” He didn't try to keep the contempt from his voice.

“I'm…so…sorry.”

Turning on his heel, he had left the room. Sorry?
She wouldn't have a chance to humiliate a Baldwin a second time.

Shortly after that, P.K. was thrown from his horse during roundup and trampled. His leg was badly injured, and he required complete bed rest. It had been weeks before he was able to ride again. During that time, Adam had been forced to take charge. In a sense it had been a good thing. Long hours and hard work had kept his mind off Vonnie.

From that time on, Vonnie went out of her way to avoid him. Even in church, she sat as far away from him as she could and disappeared as soon as the last amen was uttered. He finally stopped going to services, because seeing her only fueled his anger.

Before he knew it, nearly two years had passed. Vonnie had perfected her talent for sewing and soon was the most sought after seamstress for her remarkable gowns.

One hot night, he found himself alone with her at a church function. By then there was nothing to say about the past, about the one night that was etched permanently into their memory. Like the Baldwins and Taylors, they pointedly ignored each other.

It was as if the marriage had never taken place.

Adam leaned his head back against the chair, recalling the brief ceremony. He'd managed to get her home without being seen and the next morning he had talked to Judge Clive Henderson, who had given him a tongue-lashing, the memory of which still stung. After he'd calmed down, Clive had agreed to arrange for the an
nulment and promised to take the secret to his grave. So far he had kept his promise.

The room was quiet except for the buzzing of a blue-bottle fly. Adam focused on the question he had tried hard to ignore. Why
did
he have such a difficult time forgetting that firelight wedding ceremony and the pride and love he'd felt in his bride? He had another wedding in his future. This one would take place in a church where there would be guests and flowers and a proper preacher. Beth would make a beautiful bride, and later, she would keep a fine home, make a loving mother and a caring wife. So why was he still thinking about the one woman he couldn't forget?