[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
hope of something deeper between them.
But until he saw her as a woman, and not some crippled songbird with a broken spirit, she could
never be sure of him-or herself.
Chapter Eight
Ty and Erin were married in a quiet ceremony in the small Presbyterian church where the Wades
had worshiped for two generations.
Erin wore a white street-length dress with long sleeves and a high neckline. She'd hoped that she
wouldn't need her cane, but it was still difficult to walk without it.
Ty was wearing a well-tailored three-piece suit, and he looked debonair and worldly. He towered
over Erin, even though she wore high heels, and she felt small and vulnerable standing next to him.
A handful of people witnessed the ceremony, including Ty's foreman, Stuart Grandy, Conchita and
Jose, and a few neighbors. It only took a few minutes, and as Ty slid the small circle of gold onto her
finger, he brushed his lips gently against her mouth in a kiss that was more promise than reality.
Erin felt tears burning her eyes, and she tried desperately not to cry. Ty seemed to realize that her
emotions were in turmoil because he smiled at her and produced a handkerchief as well-wishers
gathered around them.
"Well, somebody had to cry at my wedding," she said, dabbing her eyes, "and who better than me?"
"I'd cry, too, if I had to marry him," declared Red Davis, one of Ty's cowhands.
Ty glared at him. "There went your Christmas bonus."
Red grinned. He was only in his early twenties, and full of rowdy humor. "Think so? In that case,
wait until tonight, boss."
"You set one foot on my homestead and I'll load my Winchester," Ty told him.
"Reverend Bill, did you hear what he just said?" Red called out to the tall, bespectacled minister.
"He says he's going to shoot me!"
"I never!" Ty said, looking shocked.
Reverend Bill Gates chuckled as he joined them. "I heard why he said that, Red, and if you go onto
his porch, I'll lend him some buckshot for his shotgun."
Red shook his head sorrowfully. "Shame on you."
Bill grinned. "Shame on you."
Ty took Erin's hand in his and braced himself for all the congratulations. She wondered if he found
this as much of an ordeal as she did. She wasn't all that comfortable in public yet, with her scars still
visible and her self-confidence shot to pieces. But she leaned on Ty instead of the cane and forced
herself to smile.
Eventually, they returned to Staghorn for the reception. Conchita had taken care of all the details,
and had even hired a caterer to help so that there would be plenty of food. It seemed to take forever
for the guests to eat their fill, and by then Ty was into a heavy discussion with two of the neighboring
ranchers about the growing number of oil fields in the area.
Erin felt guilty for being so irritable, but she was fuming long before the last piece of cake had
been finished off. She went into the kitchen with Conchita and helped her wash dishes.
"Is not right," Conchita grumbled, glaring down at la senora. "On your wedding day, this is not the
proper thing for you to be doing."
"That's right," Erin agreed. "So you wade in there and tell my new husband that."
"Not me," Conchita replied. "I like my job."
"You and I could take this terrific dishwashing routine on the stage," she told the housekeeper.
"We'd make a fortune."
Conchita stared at her, round-eyed. "Perhaps it is the fever."
"I don't have a fever."
"No?" Conchita grinned, her teeth a flash of white in her dark face.
Erin flushed and grabbed at a dishtowel. "I'll dry."
"As you wish, senora."
Ty found them there half an hour later. He stopped in the doorway, watching. "What a hell of a way
to spend your wedding day," he said shortly.
"No, it's not," Erin replied, smiling poisonously over her shoulder. "It's super. Conchita and I are
going to take this great act on the stage. We'll win awards."
"I wouldn't buy a ticket."
"You're just jealous because nobody would pay to watch you and Mr. Hawes and Mr. Danson
stand around and talk oil and cattle for two hours."
"So that's it," be murmured.
"Now you will get an insight into the true nature of woman," Conchita informed him, putting her
dishtowel aside. "Go off and fight, and then you can make up properly. Jose is taking me in to town to
shop for Christmas, so you will have the house all to yourselves."
They waited, glaring at each other in silence, until she'd left the kitchen.
"I don't want to make up with you," she told him furiously.
"So stay in here and pout," he replied. "I can always go work off my temper with the men."
"Good! Why don't you start a fight? Maybe I could sell tickets to that!"
He glared at her one last time, turned on his heel, grabbed his Stetson, slammed it onto his head,
and stomped off toward the porch. The door crashed loudly behind him.
Erin flung a plate at the door. Unfortunately, it was one of those new unbreakable ones, and it only
made a loud thud, not a satisfying shatter. She sighed and picked it up to wash it again. By the time
she'd finished, tears were streaming down her cheeks.
Ty stayed away all day. Conchita and Jose came home to find Erin in her own room and Ty outside
with his men. They stared at each other for a moment and then shook their heads as they went about
their business.
By early evening, Erin had taken a bath and settled into her bed, two short novels by her side. At
eight-thirty she unlocked the door to Conchita, who bustled in with a bowl of homemade soup and
some hot coffee. Erin closed her ears to Conchita's well-meant grumbling and in the process forgot to
relock the door behind the housekeeper. She ate the soup, drank the coffee, and finished the second
novel, by which time she had a genuine headache and a throbbing hip. She felt thoroughly miserable.
She wished she'd never met Ty in the first place; she was sure that she hated him. Somewhere along
the way she drifted off to sleep, tears drying on her cheeks.
Ty came in about midnight, dirty and disheveled and half out of humor, and found her asleep in her
own room. He glared at her sleeping form for a long moment before he closed the door again and
went to his room to spend a cold, unsatisfying night by himself.
The next morning, Erin was up before breakfast, exercising by herself in the living room. She'd
show him! She'd get better, then she'd leave him! She'd go back to work and make a fortune and have
men running after her all over the place, and then he'd be sorry! The thought gave her fresh energy.
She was going full steam when Ty walked into the room, smoking a cigarette.
"Good morning," he said.
"Good morning," she replied sweetly. "I hope you had a horrible night?"
"I did, thanks. How about you?"
"I hardly slept."
"You were sawing logs when I came home," he remarked.
"Oh, then you did finally come home?" she asked sarcastically. "How kind of you."
"You started it," he muttered. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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hope of something deeper between them.
But until he saw her as a woman, and not some crippled songbird with a broken spirit, she could
never be sure of him-or herself.
Chapter Eight
Ty and Erin were married in a quiet ceremony in the small Presbyterian church where the Wades
had worshiped for two generations.
Erin wore a white street-length dress with long sleeves and a high neckline. She'd hoped that she
wouldn't need her cane, but it was still difficult to walk without it.
Ty was wearing a well-tailored three-piece suit, and he looked debonair and worldly. He towered
over Erin, even though she wore high heels, and she felt small and vulnerable standing next to him.
A handful of people witnessed the ceremony, including Ty's foreman, Stuart Grandy, Conchita and
Jose, and a few neighbors. It only took a few minutes, and as Ty slid the small circle of gold onto her
finger, he brushed his lips gently against her mouth in a kiss that was more promise than reality.
Erin felt tears burning her eyes, and she tried desperately not to cry. Ty seemed to realize that her
emotions were in turmoil because he smiled at her and produced a handkerchief as well-wishers
gathered around them.
"Well, somebody had to cry at my wedding," she said, dabbing her eyes, "and who better than me?"
"I'd cry, too, if I had to marry him," declared Red Davis, one of Ty's cowhands.
Ty glared at him. "There went your Christmas bonus."
Red grinned. He was only in his early twenties, and full of rowdy humor. "Think so? In that case,
wait until tonight, boss."
"You set one foot on my homestead and I'll load my Winchester," Ty told him.
"Reverend Bill, did you hear what he just said?" Red called out to the tall, bespectacled minister.
"He says he's going to shoot me!"
"I never!" Ty said, looking shocked.
Reverend Bill Gates chuckled as he joined them. "I heard why he said that, Red, and if you go onto
his porch, I'll lend him some buckshot for his shotgun."
Red shook his head sorrowfully. "Shame on you."
Bill grinned. "Shame on you."
Ty took Erin's hand in his and braced himself for all the congratulations. She wondered if he found
this as much of an ordeal as she did. She wasn't all that comfortable in public yet, with her scars still
visible and her self-confidence shot to pieces. But she leaned on Ty instead of the cane and forced
herself to smile.
Eventually, they returned to Staghorn for the reception. Conchita had taken care of all the details,
and had even hired a caterer to help so that there would be plenty of food. It seemed to take forever
for the guests to eat their fill, and by then Ty was into a heavy discussion with two of the neighboring
ranchers about the growing number of oil fields in the area.
Erin felt guilty for being so irritable, but she was fuming long before the last piece of cake had
been finished off. She went into the kitchen with Conchita and helped her wash dishes.
"Is not right," Conchita grumbled, glaring down at la senora. "On your wedding day, this is not the
proper thing for you to be doing."
"That's right," Erin agreed. "So you wade in there and tell my new husband that."
"Not me," Conchita replied. "I like my job."
"You and I could take this terrific dishwashing routine on the stage," she told the housekeeper.
"We'd make a fortune."
Conchita stared at her, round-eyed. "Perhaps it is the fever."
"I don't have a fever."
"No?" Conchita grinned, her teeth a flash of white in her dark face.
Erin flushed and grabbed at a dishtowel. "I'll dry."
"As you wish, senora."
Ty found them there half an hour later. He stopped in the doorway, watching. "What a hell of a way
to spend your wedding day," he said shortly.
"No, it's not," Erin replied, smiling poisonously over her shoulder. "It's super. Conchita and I are
going to take this great act on the stage. We'll win awards."
"I wouldn't buy a ticket."
"You're just jealous because nobody would pay to watch you and Mr. Hawes and Mr. Danson
stand around and talk oil and cattle for two hours."
"So that's it," be murmured.
"Now you will get an insight into the true nature of woman," Conchita informed him, putting her
dishtowel aside. "Go off and fight, and then you can make up properly. Jose is taking me in to town to
shop for Christmas, so you will have the house all to yourselves."
They waited, glaring at each other in silence, until she'd left the kitchen.
"I don't want to make up with you," she told him furiously.
"So stay in here and pout," he replied. "I can always go work off my temper with the men."
"Good! Why don't you start a fight? Maybe I could sell tickets to that!"
He glared at her one last time, turned on his heel, grabbed his Stetson, slammed it onto his head,
and stomped off toward the porch. The door crashed loudly behind him.
Erin flung a plate at the door. Unfortunately, it was one of those new unbreakable ones, and it only
made a loud thud, not a satisfying shatter. She sighed and picked it up to wash it again. By the time
she'd finished, tears were streaming down her cheeks.
Ty stayed away all day. Conchita and Jose came home to find Erin in her own room and Ty outside
with his men. They stared at each other for a moment and then shook their heads as they went about
their business.
By early evening, Erin had taken a bath and settled into her bed, two short novels by her side. At
eight-thirty she unlocked the door to Conchita, who bustled in with a bowl of homemade soup and
some hot coffee. Erin closed her ears to Conchita's well-meant grumbling and in the process forgot to
relock the door behind the housekeeper. She ate the soup, drank the coffee, and finished the second
novel, by which time she had a genuine headache and a throbbing hip. She felt thoroughly miserable.
She wished she'd never met Ty in the first place; she was sure that she hated him. Somewhere along
the way she drifted off to sleep, tears drying on her cheeks.
Ty came in about midnight, dirty and disheveled and half out of humor, and found her asleep in her
own room. He glared at her sleeping form for a long moment before he closed the door again and
went to his room to spend a cold, unsatisfying night by himself.
The next morning, Erin was up before breakfast, exercising by herself in the living room. She'd
show him! She'd get better, then she'd leave him! She'd go back to work and make a fortune and have
men running after her all over the place, and then he'd be sorry! The thought gave her fresh energy.
She was going full steam when Ty walked into the room, smoking a cigarette.
"Good morning," he said.
"Good morning," she replied sweetly. "I hope you had a horrible night?"
"I did, thanks. How about you?"
"I hardly slept."
"You were sawing logs when I came home," he remarked.
"Oh, then you did finally come home?" she asked sarcastically. "How kind of you."
"You started it," he muttered. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]