Under Starry Skies (21 page)

“Whatever is the matter with you? You’ve never been fickle before.” Hands on her hips, Abigail looked at the destruction Maria had done to her bedroom. “This room looks like it fell into the path of a strong northern gale.”

“I can’t decide what to wear if I don’t know where we’re going,” she said with obvious distress in her voice. “Oh, Abigail, and I’ve never been in love before. I want to look perfect.”

Abigail picked up the hairbrush. “You always look perfect. I have it from a reliable source you’ll be dining at Tye’s ranch house.”

“How can you be sure?”

Abigail smiled. “Oh, Maria, I have my sources. Brett is incapable of keeping a secret where Tye is concerned. Put on the pretty green gingham dress you remade from Emma’s and take my white shawl. But hurry, he’ll be here shortly.” She bent and collected the ribbons and handed them to her. “And leave your hair down and tied back, for heaven’s sake. You don’t need to look like an old maid with a lumpy bun planted on your head like a head of wilted cabbage.”

At the door, Abigail stopped and turned back toward her sister. “Maria, by chance do you know of anyone who might know the combination to the safe in the barroom besides Amos, Charlie, and me?”

Maria shook her head. Her hand stopped in midair from trying to untangle her hair. “Did you ask Aunt Emma?”

“She’s the next person I intend to talk to.”

“I’d love to hear that conversation.” Maria rolled her eyes toward the ceiling. “Oh, Abby, I hear a buggy. Quick, go stall Tye while I get ready!”

Minutes later, Tye Ashmore arrived with a chestnut horse pulling a covered, one-seat black buggy. It rattled into the yard sending two of the hens squawking and scurrying to get out of his way. Abigail hurried out to meet him. He had discarded his usual buckskin clothing and was wearing a white shirt under a brown leather vest and dark brown trousers to match his hand-tooled boots. Abigail noticed his gun was still strapped to his hip and a buckskin jacket was thrown on the seat of the buggy. “Maria needs a few more minutes,” she said. “She is usually very punctual, but she had trouble deciding what to wear. She didn’t have a clue as to where she’d be dining.”

He nodded, saying nothing, leaning against the buggy.

Exasperated, Abigail continued, “You know, you two could spend a little more time conversing about details.” When she got a nod and silent gaze again, she waved both hands in the air. “Oh, for goodness sake, Tye Ashmore, if you had told her where you were going, it would have made her selection of dresses a little easier, and you wouldn’t be standing here staring at me like a big lout. You’ve sent her into a dither, and trust me, Maria doesn’t do dither very well.”

This time he smiled. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Oh, what the devil am I thinking? You
both
are hopeless!” She flounced back into the house.

“Thanks for helping,” he called out after her. She turned, and he motioned to the back of the buggy where two picnic baskets were perched behind the seat. “Your kitchen staff at the Mule Shed have outdone themselves.”

“My pleasure, I hope you enjoy it,” she replied and disappeared into the house.

****

The late autumn afternoon was bright and clear when Maria climbed into the buggy with its plush upholstered red leather seats. Fluffy white clouds hung in the sky, and the air was unusually warm and balmy for autumn as they passed through town on their way to the Ashmore ranch. Tye was unusually pensive, lost in his own thoughts. They continued onward along a small country road lined with a canopy of brush and trees blocking out the sun and allowing only filtered light to penetrate. Around them, everything fell silent, except the gentle clip clop of the horse’s hooves on the hard-packed ground.

Finally he spoke, “I see you now have chickens.”

“Yes, and eggs and custard.” Maria nodded and bit back a threatening smile. Should she tell him about Two Bears? She quickly brushed the thought aside. It was best if her teaching endeavors with an Indian were kept a secret. The last thing she wanted was for the townsfolk to get wind of it. She could put her teaching position in jeopardy.

Face impassive, he drawled, “Should I be worried?”

“Because I now have eggs?” Maria enjoyed his discomfort.

“I think you know what I mean.”

“Ahhh…that I have a secret admirer?” She regarded him with an amused look. “Actually, they were given to me by a friend who owed me a favor.” She watched the relieved look on his face and was glad he did not question her further. Settling back against the plush seat, she relaxed, enjoying the play of shadows through the trees cutting the road in half and the flame yellow of golden rod along the roadway forecasting the autumn season. “This buggy makes for a pleasant ride.”

“Yes, it’s well-sprung and easy to handle. We bought it for Betsy when she started working at the General Store. We didn’t want her handling a wagon and team of horses to deliver smaller goods around town. Now it sits idle at the ranch since Betsy owns the store and others deliver for her.”

“You and Betsy are very close, aren’t you?”

“You could say that.” His face took on a playful, radiant look. “Betsy was adopted by my parents as an infant. Mother had just delivered me, the last of four boys, so you can imagine her joy at finding a baby girl abandoned in our stables. Betsy and I grew up together and played together—almost like twins, and we conspired to aggravate the lives of our older brothers. We now make it a point to keep up the habit.”

Farther up the road, Tye slowed the team as they approached a spot in the road where a fallen tree limb blocked the buggy from passing. Stopping the horse, he tied the reins to the brake. “Stay seated.” He jumped down to drag the offending branch from the road.

“No. Let me help.” Maria hiked up her skirt and climbed down, following him.

“Maria, stand back.” He picked up the thick end and began to drag it across to the side. The words had barely left his mouth when two rattlesnakes slithered out from a gunnysack held shut by the weight of the leafy bough. One curled up in warning in the middle of the road, buzzing loudly. The other glided away from them and up the road toward the grassy edge. In a flash, Tye dropped the branch, wrapped an arm around Maria’s waist, and slammed her hard against his solid chest. At the same time, he drew his gun and fired twice, sending the head of each snake flying up onto the dusty road. Startled by the shots, the horse bolted, the motion of the buggy dislodging the loosely tied reins on the brake. With the whites of its eyes bulging, the horse went flying past them with the buggy bumping along behind.

“Nooo-ooo!” Maria screamed and tried to break loose to run after them, but Tye’s arm held her fast, her back plastered against him.

“Wait!” Gun still drawn, he swore softly under his breath near her ear. “Stop fighting me! We don’t know how many snakes were in the sack. There could be more.”

“I can’t breathe,” she choked out.

He released his grip, and she slipped down onto her knees in the middle of the road near his boots, heedless of any dirt soiling her dress. She sucked in a lungful of air. Cold fingers of fear pressed along her spine. She dropped her head into her hands as misery reared its ugly head. Again, they were without a horse and miles from the ranch. “How many enemies do you have, Tye?”

He stared down at her, his eyes dark and expressionless before he moved away to check both sides of the weedy road. “I’m serious, Tydall! How many?” She watched him gather a stick, pick up the limp bodies of the snakes, and toss them onto the gunnysack at the edge of the road.

“I don’t know, maybe it’s the same person.” He walked to her and held out his hand to help her up.

She slapped it away. “Get away from me! I hate this God-forsaken land!” Tears welled in her eyes and spilled down her cheeks. “I told Abigail this would never work.” She swiped at her face with the back of her hands. “We should have never come here. I could have put in a request for a teaching position back in Albany where there are civilized people who respect each other. I could tell in Uncle Henry’s letter that Aunt Emma had no love for his relatives. Why, oh why, did I listen to Abby? Now here we are stuck in the middle of a snake infested land with all types of vicious creatures like lynx and people without scruples!”

Patiently, without speaking, Tye stood above her and listened to her rant. Minutes seemed to pass like hours until he squatted in front of her and handed her his handkerchief. “At least life here is never dull, Maria,” he said in a soft voice.

She wiped her eyes and face, and let out a nervous laugh, trying to compose herself. “No, at least life
with you
is never dull.”

He stood and offered his hand again, and she let him pull her to her feet. “Let’s walk, Maria. The horse will either stop farther up the road or end up in the ranch yard. And let’s hope the baskets of food weren’t thrown out in the ruckus.”

“With our luck?” She begrudgingly set out, walking beside him.

They had barely covered a few yards when they heard a rider approaching from behind. Gun drawn, Tye pushed her off to the side of the road and behind him. Moments later, around a bend, Marcus came thundering up, and Tye stepped out to halt him. “You are sight for sorry eyes, Marcus.”

Marcus drew up his mount and looked at Tye with wrinkled brows, then back down the road where he had pitched the two headless snakes and the gunnysack. “From the look on your face, your afternoon is on a downhill slide, Tydall—to hell. Please, don’t tell me you lost the horse
and
the buggy?”

“Long story. And jokes would not be well received at the moment.” Tye threw a cautious sideways gaze at Maria a few feet away. She was shaking dust from her dress. Her hair had come undone and framed her face in a wild, disheveled array.

“Holy Mother in heaven, she looks like she could scare bats out of a cave!”

“Marcus!”

“All right, stay calm,” Marcus said in a low voice. “Tell me what in blue blazes happened.”

Tye squinted up at him. “Someone hoped we’d tangle with a few rattlers. What are you doing out this way?”

“The kitchen staff forgot to pack the dessert for your dinner tonight. I was leaving the barroom and heading home, so I said I’d make the delivery.” Marcus’s saddle creaked as he dismounted and untied a basket from behind it. He handed it to Tye. “I’ll take a ride up the road and see if I can recover your horse and rig.”

“Be careful, Marcus, someone planted that gunnysack.”

Marcus snorted, thumbed back his hat, and studied the shadowed forest around them. He heaved a weary sigh. “You know, Tydall, life with you has never been dull.”

“Someone already told me that,” Tye replied sourly.

“Where’s your dog?”

“I left him with Betsy. I was tired of vying with him for Maria’s affection.”

“You sure have your share of problems, brother.” Marcus shook his head and mounted.

“Just find our rig, Marcus, before I shoot you, too.”

****

Later, at the ranch house with the horse and buggy secure and the excitement of the earlier dilemma waning, Maria left Tye outside to send Marcus home and went inside to try to put herself in order. Knowing she must look frightful, she took a seat by the kitchen table and combed her hair with her fingers, trying to dislodge the tangles and gather it into a bunch at the back of her neck.

“Here, here. There’s a better way.” Tye quietly strode inside and stood over her. He motioned for her to follow him into a bedroom and pointed to a bench with a pink satin cushion sitting before a lady’s dressing table with an attached mirror. Undoubtedly, it was Betsy’s bedroom when she stayed at the ranch.

“Sit,” he ordered and when she reached for a brush, he pulled it gently from her hands. “Just relax, I know how to do this.” His callused hands gently turned her head toward the vanity mirror, and with her back to him, he brushed the snarls from her hair with long efficient strokes. The calm motion felt soothing after her teary cry, lulling her into serenity.

His low voice and warm breath near her ear startled her back to reality. “What is your wish, princess? One braid? Two braids? Or a chignon?”

“Are you serious?” Her cinnamon eyes found his dark ones in the mirror.

He smiled and continued to work each lock, taking care to stop every time he hit a snarl and gently untangle it. “I assure you, my dear, Maria, I am the best. When Betsy and I were growing up, I had to wait for my mother to do my sister’s hair before we were allowed to go out to play. At about the age of eight or so, I realized if I could comb and braid the mane on my horse, I could fix Betsy’s hair, and we would get outside a whole lot faster.”

He looked at her in the mirror with a steady penetrating gaze.

“So how did you learn the chignon?” she asked. “It’s certainly not something most men would know.”

He continued to comb her hair. “When my mother died, Betsy and I were fourteen and had just come out west. One day, my father found her crying for hours in the bedroom…from grief or from loneliness…or maybe from both. But the whole crying spell began when she couldn’t properly put her hair up to go to town. She wanted to look older as if she were the woman of the house. Which, in truth, she was.”

“So what happened?”

Tye took a comb from the vanity, parted Maria’s hair in three sections, and began to loosely braid it. “Pa offered any one of us a gold eagle and a new rifle if we could get her to come around. I went into the bedroom, found out the problem, and dared her that together, we could make this so-called chignon if she helped and told me what to do. She had a picture of it from an
Arthur’s Home Magazine.
I also offered her the gold eagle to quit crying.”

“You
bribed
your grieving sister?”

“I had to.” He grinned a lopsided devilish grin at her in the mirror. “I wanted a new rifle. I was tired of hand-me-down shirts, boots, and weapons from my three older brothers. Anyhow, fifteen minutes later, Betsy was smiling, and we were on our way to town to buy supplies—and a new rifle.” He laughed. “It didn’t take much thought afterwards to use my sister and her weakness against my older brothers. Every time I had a chore I didn’t like, I told them they could help her do her hair, and someone always stepped forward to do the task for me. Little did they know she had mastered the chignon herself after a few tries.”