Wild Is the Night (37 page)

She got even whiter, her skin like milk. “I’ll sing, Sam. I promise. Please don’t kill me.”

“They don’t want you anymore, pet,” Sam replied thoughtfully. “Ever since that barroom job. I can’t get you a booking at any respectable saloon, and those that aren’t don’t want some scrawny songbird parading before them with a voice that would send a sinner to church. You just don’t have it any more, my dear.”

“I’ll find a way,” Honey promised. “Please. I can cook, sew, wash dishes—”

“You’ll not be a burden to me,” Sam sighed, his cigar almost out. He tossed the stub to the floor, then watched as she picked it up and put it into the spittoon for him. “Yes, darlin’, you might as well start to say your prayers. In death, you’ll be grateful I spared you this miserable existence. And you know far too much for me to let you go.” He chuckled, pleased at the abject fear in her expression. “Yes, darlin’, say your prayers.”

Unbeknownst to him, Honey did.

Chapter
  
23
  

“Amanda, you can’t keep moping around here. Look at these cards! Everyone wants you, and it’s time you started getting out.” Aileen sifted through the stack of invitations and envelopes that lined Pedro’s tray. She turned toward her friend with obvious concern, noting the dusty dress Amanda wore, the ink stains on her fingers, and the air of distress that clung to her like a heavy cloak. Something was wrong, Aileen knew that as sure as she knew that the sun shone in Killarney. Gone was the vibrant woman on the prairie who plotted endlessly to rid herself of the one man she cared about. In spite of their differences, Amanda had bloomed in Luke’s company, and even he seemed to enjoy their mental fencing.

Until now. Something had changed. Aileen had passed Luke coming in, and he barely gave her a nod. And Amanda, who seemed as if she had disappeared from the face of the earth, was found sequestered in this library with her books, the gaslight, and her owl.

“I don’t feel like getting out.” Amanda pushed back a lock of chestnut hair into her prim knot and sighed tiredly. “Aileen, I know you mean well. But I do have a book to finish, and I’ve wasted entirely too much time as it is. ‘Life gives nothing to mortals except with great labor.’ Horace.”

Aileen frowned. “Well then, I can’t argue with that. But what of research? Is it no longer necessary for you to see what you’re writing about? We’ve been here for over a week, and you know less about this town than you do China.”

“I suppose you have a point.” Without realizing it, Amanda’s eyes wandered to the envelope that bulged out of her carpetbag—the letter from her editor. She had discovered it just this morning while rifling through the bag for her notes, and had reread the missive thoughtfully. She’d experienced much more of life in the last few months than she’d ever dreamed possible, and she had to admit that it gave her work a richness she’d never approached before.

“Sure I do.” Aileen wasn’t quite certain why, but she sensed a victory at hand. If Amanda had to think fun was work to get out and enjoy herself, so be it. “The Woman’s Committee has been dying to get you out for their meeting. Why don’t we go today, and then to one of the parties later tonight?” Aileen held out the ream of invitations with a grin. “You’ve got enough to choose from. Everyone wants Fess Tyson at their affair.”

Amanda nodded, looking at the cards with the first interest she’d shown in days. Even if her life with Luke was over, she’d have to go on. And her work was the best place to start.

The afternoon sun beat down as Luke wrestled with the barbed wire, wrapping it around a wooden fence post and hammering the glinting metal into place to secure the ranch. He had removed his shirt, and his body gleamed a soft bronze, his muscles flexed with exertion. Wiping the sweat from his brow, he collapsed into the grass, taking a moment to catch his breath and survey the fruits of his efforts.

It would all be worth it. The fence work was grueling, but once it was done, he would have saved thousands of dollars in pay to the cowboys for roundup. Within months, he could control what his cattle ate, where they wandered and their mating practices, all of which would contribute to an outstanding breed. Within years he would have the best damned ranch this side of Waco, and within a decade, the best in the state. It was all happening, and yet…

The wind stirred the fields. The grass bent like ruffled silk, and the wildflowers swayed like graceful ballerinas. The sun bathed the grass in a sheen of gold, the dazzling mist rising up to the clouds in a froth of humidity, only to disappear like white vapor ghosts into an endless rim of blue. Insects hummed. A dragonfly paused beside a clover blossom like a living match, anticipating the sweetness behind the soft white mound, then landed delicately on a petal to drink in the nectar. It was beautiful, restless, and wild. And it reminded him of Amanda.

She hadn’t spoken to him in days. When she looked at him, there was a shadow of pain in her ocean eyes—and a new disillusionment. Luke had left her alone, thinking that whatever was wrong, Amanda would come to him when she was ready, but it didn’t seem to be working out that way. Daily, she became more immersed in her work, shutting out him, her friends, and her new neighbors. He understood what her work meant to her, but even to his inexperienced eyes this was unhealthy.

The wind blew once more and the bluebonnets danced.
I see the flowers of the plains, and I see beauty. He has given that to me, in the moments when he is kind…

Damn!
Luke pounded his fist into his palm, and only then did he notice that he had cut himself on the barbed wire. Blood oozed from several lacerations, and crept into the crevices of his fingers like tiny determined rivers. He didn’t even feel the physical pain, for what was happening inside of him was so overwhelmingly terrible. It was worse than when he discovered Suzette dead and his mother gone, for he couldn’t control that nor could he have prevented it.

But this, this was within his power, and it was dying, as surely as his sister and mother died. One day he would wake up and be alone again, the way he was before he met Amanda Edison, with nothing inside of him but hate.

The fury within him waned, and determination was reborn. He wouldn’t let this happen, not while he had a breath in his body. Amanda meant too much to him. It was time he admitted that to her, as well as to himself.

Amanda nodded sleepily at the Woman’s Committee meeting, trying hard to hide behind the rotund Mrs. Meade and not reveal her boredom. Today’s meeting was being held in the town hall, and not a breeze or a breath of fresh air came through the large open windows. The women’s voices were soft and gentle, addressing topics such as the new spring plantings and the upcoming Christmas party. That was the event of the year, and all of the women discussed their gowns in detail, as well as the decorations and festivities.

Covering a yawn with one hand, Amanda shifted impatiently in her chair, earning a frown from Aileen. All she could think about was Luke. Even knowing what she did, he crept back into her thoughts with a startling regularity, appearing when she was trying to write and preventing her from concentrating on anything other than him.

Fresh puzzlement surged through her as she thought of her reaction to his latest kiss. She had successfully distanced him, hurt him with her words, yet once he held her in his arms, her mind seemed to stop working and some inner drive took over. She recalled the way her arms crept around his neck, almost in an instinctive reaction, and her nose wrinkled as she tried to sort all of this out.

“…and red and green are the only appropriate Christmas colors,” Mrs. Mitchell huffed. Her breath smelled suspiciously of gin, and as she leaned forward, a little bottle nearly tumbled out of her pocket. “I don’t know what you’re thinking of, Margaret! Silver and blue are much too cold for this climate. Don’t you agree, Mrs. Parker?”

Amanda blinked, reacting to the name only because it was Luke’s. She really didn’t think of herself as Mrs. Parker, nor Fess Tyson. She was Amanda Edison, and Amanda alone.

“I’m sorry, I was thinking of something else,” Amanda answered honestly.

“Perhaps you’d like to share your thoughts, my dear. You seem troubled.” Grace Brockelman spoke quietly, aware of Amanda’s distraction and the other women’s insensitivity. The school teacher recognized the restless intelligence in Amanda’s eyes and understood her lack of interest. And yet, it was not quite fair in Grace’s opinion that Amanda be left out.

“Actually, I was wondering if physical mating urges superceded common sense,” Amanda said bluntly, adjusting her glasses and perking up for the first time all morning. “It could be part of our instinct, you know.”

“What?” Mrs. Meade asked, appalled.

“Our need to procreate would have to be more compelling than logic, otherwise men and women would never mate.” Amanda simplified her argument, ignoring Aileen’s rolling eyes and pale face. “For it occurs to me that the differences between men and women would make mating an impossibility, without the physical compulsion. Don’t you agree?”

The women shared a stunned silence, then Grace Brockelman began to laugh softly. She started to clap, ignoring the thunderstruck faces of the women around her.

“It’s about time we converted these meetings to discuss something more important than the color of our gowns,” Grace said emphatically. “I think if we learned nothing else in the past decade, it’s that our lives have changed and we must change with them. We have a new chance to contribute something meaningful to this town, and Amanda Edison can help us do it!”

Grace’s face became impassioned and the other women broke into renewed applause. Elvira Brannigan, the mayor’s wife, stood up with her handkerchief fluttering and her face as pale as a china teacup.

“I don’t think this is a good idea at all. What would Frank Mitchell say, and your Tom, Margaret! I shudder to even think of it. I feel I shall faint…”

There was a scurrying around for her smelling salts, then Mrs. Meade gave her a stern look. “Oh, shut up, Elvira. We’re all in agreement here, and it’s something we’ve all discussed privately for some time now. We have a chance to really do something constructive, and we aren’t going to let your fainting spells stop us. Now ladies, let’s talk. We’ve been wanting to restructure our school system for some time. Perhaps we could talk about that. Or the medical field.”

“Ranch wars.” Margaret shuddered. “Tensions are heating up over the use of barbed wire. Perhaps we could help ease the fighting and find a solution.”

“I agree.” Mrs. Meade accepted a sheet of Amanda’s notepaper and a pen, ignoring the ink that spattered all over her dress. She headed her paper, then drew columns. “All right, ladies, let’s get started. We have a lot of work ahead of us, and we’ll be counting on you, Mrs. Parker, to lead the way.”

Amanda nodded, then took out a paper for everyone else. She was finally accepted, wanted, and appreciated for what she was. It was a heady feeling, yet she could only hope that perhaps now she would forget Luke Parker.

Luke was whistling when he strode into the house, feeling a damned sight better than he had when he’d left. At least he had a plan of action. Amanda was shutting him out, but he’d broken through that wall before, and he’d simply have to do it again. She wouldn’t like it, but this time he was going to set new ground rules. If he didn’t, he risked everything—from losing her to finding his laundry decorating the desert.

“Senor, I try to meet you at the door, but you come in too quickly,” Pedro protested, rushing up into the hallway and wiping his hands on his apron. “We have a visitor here, the sheriff.”