And the next question was, did Kane still want to marry her?
With shaking hands, she sat down at her desk and wrote a note to her fiancé.
Dear Mr. Taggert,
My behavior last night was unforgivable. I’d understand if you’d like the return of your ring.
Sincerely,
Miss Houston Chandler
She sealed the letter and had Susan give it to Willie to deliver.
When Kane received the letter, he snorted.
“Bad news?” Edan asked.
Kane started to hand the letter to Edan but, instead, slipped it into his pocket. “It’s from Houston. You know, I don’t think I ever met anybody quite like her. Weren’t you goin’ into town later?”
Edan nodded.
“Stop by one of the jewelry stores and buy a dozen rings, all different colors, and send them over to Houston’s house.”
“Any message?”
Kane smiled. “No, the rings oughta be enough. Now, where were we?”
At four o’clock, Mr. Weatherly, of Weatherly’s Jewels and Coronation Gifts, came rushing up the steps of the Chandler house.
“I have a package for Miss Houston,” he said excitedly to Susan, who answered the door.
Susan led him into the parlor where Opal and a subdued Houston sat, surrounded by lists of wedding, preparations.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Weatherly,” Opal said. “Could I get you some tea?”
“No, thank you,” he said, looking at Houston, lights dancing in his eyes. “This is for you.” He thrust a large, thin black velvet box at her.
Puzzled, but with a glimmer of hope blossoming within her, Houston took the box. All day had been miserable as she tried to plan a wedding that might not happen. And to make things worse, at noon, Mr. Gates had come home for dinner and privately informed her that he’d made an appointment for her to meet with Marc Fenton tomorrow morning. He was holding her to her promise to ask questions about Kane.
When Houston opened the box and saw the rings, she had to blink back tears of relief. “How pretty,” she said with outward calm as she looked at each one: two emeralds, a pearl, a sapphire, a ruby, three diamond rings, an amethyst, one ring with three opals, a ring of carved coral and one of jade.
“Could have knocked me over with a feather,” Mr. Weatherly was saying. “That blond fella that follows Mr. Taggert around came in an hour ago and asked for a dozen rings, and they were all for Miss Houston.”
“Mr. Taggert didn’t choose them himself?” Houston asked.
“It was his idea; the blond man said so.”
Very calmly, Houston stood, the closed box of rings in her hand. “Thank you so much, Mr. Weatherly, for coming personally with the rings. Perhaps you’d like to see them, Mother,” she said, handing the box to Opal. “I’m sure they need to be sized. Good day, Mr. Weatherly.”
As Houston went upstairs to her room, her heart lightened. The rings themselves didn’t matter, but he’d read her note and he meant to marry her. That was what was important. Of course, he hadn’t asked to see her but soon they’d be married and he’d see her every day.
Upstairs, she began to dress for dinner.
* * *
Houston smiled at Marc Fenton, who sat across from her in Miss Emily’s quiet, pink and white Tea Shop. Opal had taken a seat not far away, but she tried to leave them their privacy. Mr. Gates had insisted that Opal accompany Houston because he said he had no more faith in the morals of young Americans.
Marc was a good-looking man, short, stocky, blond, with wide-set blue eyes and an infectious grin.
“I hear you’ve made the catch of the season, Houston,” Marc was saying, as he took another raisin tart onto his plate. “Everyone’s whispering about how he’s half barbarian and half knight-on-a-white-horse. Which one is the real Kane Taggert?” he asked, eyes twinkling.
“I thought perhaps you could tell me. Mr. Taggert used to work for you.”
“He left when I was seven years old! I barely remember the man.”
“But what do you remember?”
“He used to scare me to death,” Marc laughed. “He ran that stable like his own private domain and nobody, including my father, trespassed.”
“Even your sister, Pamela?” Houston asked, as she idly toyed with her teacup.
“So that’s what you want to know about.” He laughed again. “I knew nothing of what was going on. One day, both Taggert and my sister were gone. You know, to this day, I still get a little nervous when I take a horse and don’t ask permission.”
“Why did your sister leave?” Houston persisted.
“Father married her off immediately. I don’t think he wanted to take any more chances on his daughter falling in love with another stableboy.”
“Where is Pam now?”
“I rarely see her. She moved to Cleveland with her husband, had a kid, and stayed there. He died a few months ago and her kid was very sick for a long time. She’s had it rough in the last year.”
“Is she—?”
Marc leaned forward in conspiracy. “If you want to know more about the man you’re planning to marry, you ought to talk to Lavinia LaRue.”
“I don’t believe I know her.”
Marc leaned back with a smile. “Of course you don’t. She’s Taggert’s light skirt.”
“His . . . ?”
“His mistress, Houston. I have to go now,” he said, rising, leaving money on the table.
Houston also rose, put her hand on his arm. “Where do I find Miss Larule?”
“LaRue, Lavinia LaRue, and ask down on Crescent Street.”
“Crescent Street?” Houston’s eyes widened. “I’ve never been there.”
“Send Willie. He knows his way around there. Meet her somewhere private. You don’t want to be seen with the Lavinia LaRues of this world. Good luck on your wedding, Houston,” he said over his shoulder as he left.
“Did you find out what you wanted?” Opal asked her daughter.
“I think I found out much more than I wanted to know.”
Houston spent the rest of Friday and all day Saturday making arrangements for the double wedding, ordering flowers, planning for food to be cooked and served.
“You haven’t seen Kane in how many days, dear?” Opal asked.
“A matter of hours,” Houston answered, not letting her mother see her face. She was not going to throw herself at Kane again. She’d made a fool of herself already and she didn’t need to do it again.
On Saturday, there were other matters to consider. Mr. Gates started yelling at five in the morning, waking everyone to announce that Blair had been out all night. Opal reassured him that Blair had been out with Lee, but that made Mr. Gates worse. He shouted that Blair would have no reputation left, and that Lee would have to marry her today.
Between Houston and Opal, they managed to get him to settle down enough to eat breakfast and it was while they were eating that Blair and Leander walked into the room.
And what a sight they were! Blair was wearing an odd garment of navy blue, the skirt barely to her ankles. Her hair was down about her shoulders and all of her was covered with mud, cockleburs, and what looked to be dried blood. Lee was as bad, wearing only a shirt and trousers, holes in his pants and his sleeve.
“Lee,” Opal said breathlessly. “Are those bullet holes?”
“Probably,” he said, grinning good-naturedly. “You can see that I brought her back safe and sound. I need to go home and get some sleep. I’m on duty this afternoon.” He turned to Blair, caressed her cheek for a moment. “Good night, doctor.”
“Good night, doctor,” she said, and he was gone.
For a moment no one could move, as they all stared at the bedraggled figure of Blair. For all her appearance of looking as if she’d been through three catastrophes, there was a light in her eyes that was close to fire.
Houston rose from the table and, as she got closer to her sister, she could smell her.
“Whatever is
in your hair?”
Blair grinned idiotically. “Horse manure I would imagine. But at least it’s in my hair and not on his chin.”
Houston could hear Mr. Gates starting to move behind her. She grabbed Blair’s arm firmly. “Upstairs!” she ordered.
Houston led Blair to the bathroom, turned on the tub taps and began undressing her sister. “Wherever did you get this extraordinary suit?”
Once Blair started talking, she didn’t seem able to stop. Houston unbuttoned her, unlaced a shoe while Blair got the other one, shampooed her sister’s hair while Blair scoured the dirt off her skin—and all the while, Blair talked about what a wonderful day she’d had with Leander, telling the most horrifying stories about maggots, range wars, cut arteries and a wrestle with a woman. And in every story, Leander was there, saving one life after another, and at one point, even saving Blair’s life.
Houston could barely believe that the Leander Blair was raving about was the remote man she’d known for years. According to Blair, Leander was close to magic when it came to being a doctor.
“Fourteen holes in that man’s intestines! And Lee sewed them all,” she said, as Houston rinsed her hair, then shampooed it again. “Fourteen.”
And the more Blair talked, the worse Houston felt. Leander had never once looked at her as he’d looked at Blair this morning, nor had he taken her with him on his calls—not that she wanted to see the inner workings of a man’s digestive system, but the sharing was what she wanted.
Blair had Leander, and after only a few days, he was hers in a way Houston had never had him. And now she didn’t seem to have Kane either. Should she go to him? Eventually they’d have to see one another to talk about the wedding. Houston imagined showing up at his house. No doubt he’d say, “I knew you’d give in. You couldn’t stay away too long.”
All day Saturday, while Blair slept, she hoped Kane would visit her, but he didn’t.
On Sunday morning, she dressed in a skirt of gray serge, a dark green blouse of plissé surah and a gray Figaro jacket, and went downstairs to join her family for church services.
When everyone was seated in the church and hymnals were open, a quiet settled on the people.
“Move over,” Kane said to Houston.
Startled, she moved down so he could sit beside her. Throughout the service, he sat still, looking up at the Reverend Thomas with a bored expression. The instant the service was over, he caught Houston’s arm. “I wanta talk to you.”
He half pulled her from the church, oblivious to people’s attempts to socialize with them, and lifted her to the seat of his old wagon. Once seated himself, he flicked the reins to the four horses and set off so quickly Houston had to hold her hat on.
“All right,” he said when he’d stopped abruptly on the south edge of town under some cottonwood trees near the waterworks plant, “what were you doin’ with Marc Fenton?”
No matter how Houston remembered Kane, he was, in life, more than she imagined.
“I have known Marc all my life,” she said coolly, “and I may see any friend I care to. Besides, my mother was with me.”
“You think I don’t know that? At least your mother’s a sensible woman.”
“I have no idea what you mean.” She began to toy with her parasol.
“What were you doin’ with Marc Fenton?” He leaned toward her in a threatening way.
Houston decided to tell him the truth. “My stepfather has made me promise to ask as many people as possible about you. Mr. Gates arranged for me to meet Marc so I could ask him about you. I would have talked to Mr. Fenton, but he refused the request.” She glared at him. “And I will probably speak to a Miss Lavinia LaRue.”
“Viney?” he asked, then grinned. “Gates gave you this advice? Not bad. I wonder how come he never made any money? Wait a minute, what if you ask somebody and he—or she—says I’m no good?”
“Then I’ll have to reconsider our marriage,” she said Primly.
She wasn’t prepared for his explosion of anger.
“We’re supposed to be married one week from tomorrow, yet you just might call it off at any minute!? Because somebody says he don’t like the cut of my shirt? I’ll tell you somethin’, Miss Chandler, you can ask ever’ man I ever dealt with and ever’ woman I ever slept with about me and, if they’re honest, you’re gonna find I ain’t cheated a man in my life.”
He got out of the wagon and walked under a tree, looking at the distant horizon.
“Damnation, but Edan told me a lady’d cause me nothin’ but trouble. He said, ‘Kane, marry some farm girl, move to the country and raise horses.’ He told me not to get mixed up with no lady.”
Houston managed to climb down from the tall wagon by herself. “I didn’t mean to upset you so badly,” she said quietly.
“Upset me!” he bellowed into her face. “I ain’t had any peace since I met you. I’m rich, I ain’t bad to look at, I offer you marriage and you turn me down flat. I don’t hear nothin’ from you, then I find out your sister’s gonna marry the man you’re so crazy in love with. But, still, you won’t marry me. Then maybe you will. Then maybe you won’t.
“For days you’re at my house bossin’ ever’body around, includin’ me, and then you act like we got a bad case of measles and you don’t come near the place. One mornin’ I wake up and you’re lookin’ at me like you’re starvin’ and when I touch you, you break a water pitcher over my head and yell at me that I gotta respect you. But the next time I touch you, you pull me down on the floor and nearly tear my clothes off. But I respect you and I leave you a damn virgin, just like you wanted. But what do I get? Next thing I know, you’re wonderin’ if I want my ring back, an’ it’s back to maybe you ain’t gonna marry me.
“This mornin’ your mother come to me, told me the right suit to wear to church,” he gave her a look of reproach, “and invited me to Sunday dinner.”
He stopped and glared at her. “So here I am, all dressed up, with you tellin’ me maybe you’ll marry me, maybe you won’t, and it all depends on what people say about me. Houston, I’ve had all this I’m gonna take. Right now you’re gonna give me a yes or no and you’re gonna stick to it. If you say yes now and no the day of the weddin’, so help me, Houston, I’ll drag you down the aisle by your hair. Now, what you got to say?”
“Yes,” she said softly, and the amount of joy inside her was amazing.
“And what if somebody tells you I’m worthless? Or that I’ve killed people?” he asked with some hostility.
“I Will still marry you.”
He turned away. “You dreadin’it so much? I mean, I know you wanted to marry Westfield, and I ain’t exactly been a gentleman all the time in our courtin’, but so far you’ve done your part of the bargain. In public, you’ve always acted like you didn’t mind marryin’ me.”
Houston’s relief that he hadn’t been repulsed by her was so great she began trembling. She wasn’t going to spend her life crocheting but was going to live with this man who was unlike anyone else.
She moved to stand in front of him. “After Sunday dinner, most young couples go to Fenton Park to walk and talk and just spend time together. Perhaps you’d like to go with me.”
“I need to . . . ,” he began. “If you still want to be seen with me after dinner with your family, I’m willin’.”
She slipped her arm through his. “Just watch me, don’t talk with your mouth full, don’t shout at anyone, and above all, don’t curse.”
“You don’t ask much, do you?” he said grimly.
“Pretend that the purchase of Mr. Vanderbilt’s apartment building depends on this dinner. Maybe that will help you remember your manners.”
Kane looked startled. “That reminds me. I need to—.” He glanced down at her. “You know, I think I’d rather spend the afternoon sittin’ in the park. It’s been a long time since I took a whole day off.”
Kane seemed to enjoy himself immensely at Sunday dinner. Opal fawned over him, and Duncan asked his advice
. Houston watched them. They’d expected a monster and found a pleasant man.
Blair had been silent through the meal, and Houston was glad she was meeting Kane at last and could see what a generous man he was. Kane even offered to allow Mr. Gates to buy some land with him, at what Houston suspected was a bargain price.
As they were leaving, Kane said, “Your sister ain’t like you at all.”
Houston asked him what he meant but he wouldn’t explain.
At the park, she introduced Kane to other engaged couples. For once, Kane relaxed rather than worrying about the amount of work he was missing. When a woman referred to Kane’s previous mishap of dumping the food in Houston’s lap, Kane stiffened, but then, when she sighed at his romantic gesture of carrying Houston, Kane ostentatiously denied that he’d done anything extraordinary.
An ice-cream parlor across from the park was open for a few hours on Sunday and Kane treated everyone to sodas and Hire’s root beer.
At the end of the day, Houston returned home with stars in her eyes. She’d had no idea he could be so charming.
“I never had time to do this kind of thing before. I always thought it was a waste of time, but it’s nice. You think I did all right with your friends? I didn’t act too much like a stableboy?”
“Not in the least.”
“Can you ride a horse?”
“Yes,” she said, hope in her voice.
“I’ll pick you up in the mornin’ and we’ll ride. Like that?”
“Very much.”
Without another word, Kane put his hands in his pockets and went down the walk of the Chandler house whistling.
Chapter 11
Kane showed up on Monday morning at five o’clock, before anyone was out of bed. As soon as Houston heard the movement downstairs, she knew it could be only one person. No one ever dressed faster in a riding habit in her life.
“You took long enough,” Kane said, as he led the way to two horses loaded with heavy saddlebags.
“Food,” was all Kane said before mounting.
It was a good thing she’d been telling the truth when she said she could ride, she thought, hours later, as she followed Kane’s horse up the side of a mountain.