Wyoming Wildfire (29 page)

On the eleventh day the snow stopped as suddenly as it began, and the temperature shot up to twenty degrees above zero.

“Feels almost like summer,” remarked Balaam, delivering some unfrozen eggs. “You might have seen the last of these. I’m surprised they kept at it this long.”

“I only need about a dozen more.”

“I’ll talk to ‘em, miss, but I can tell you,
I
wouldn’t be laying any eggs if it was up to me.” That caused Sibyl to laugh and she felt better than she had in several days.

The sun came out later that afternoon and her spirits soared. Augusta found her humming over the stove as she prepared dinner.

“That’s much more than we can eat, dear,” Augusta commented, noting the roast, the pots of vegetables, a pan of hot bread, and a pie waiting to go in the oven.

“I thought some of the men might come in now the weather’s cleared.”

Balaam soon dashed her hopes. “You won’t be seeing a soul for at least two or three days. They’ve got to get all those cows on their feet before old man North starts sneezing icicles again.’’

Augusta’s heart was wrung by Sibyl’s struggle to hide her disappointment, and she hoped that for once Burch would neglect his duties. But he didn’t, and by the time early night had fallen, she knew there would be no extra places at the table that evening. She kept up a steady, if somewhat muted, flow of conversation, and if Sibyl didn’t answer she went on just as if she had.

The next day was worse, and the dinner was put back in its pots to wait again. On the third night Augusta invited Rachel, Ned, and Balaam to eat with them. Food wouldn’t keep forever.

On the fourth day Sibyl said, I don’t think I’ll cook tonight unless you want something in particular.”

Augusta’s heart was wrung, but she decided then and there that Sibyl should not be allowed to sit around feeling sorry for herself.

“That’s all right, dear. I’ll just fix a few things for myself and the men. You know they don’t really like to eat their own cooking, and Rachel’s is not very good.”

Augusta managed to scorch one dish, spill another, and involve Sibyl in a running discussion about various ways to get the wild taste out of game meat. Feeling guilty about her lack of consideration, Sibyl jerked herself out of her reverie and went into the kitchen.

“You don’t have to fumble anymore,” she admonished Augusta, taking the pot of ruined beans from her hands. “I promise to come out of my sulks and behave like the mature woman I’m trying to convince Burch I am. He wouldn’t be very impressed by my conduct these last few days, would he?”

It’s only natural that you would become a little blue-deviled with all this snow.”

“You don’t have to try so hard to keep from telling me I’ve been behaving like an overindulged brat,” Sibyl said with a chuckle. “I know it, and I promise I won’t do it anymore.”

And she was as good as her word. Sibyl fell back into her routine of cooking full meals, and under her energetic prodding they finished the last of the Christmas cooking and cleaning, and put the huge wreath on the front door. It was fortunate that their preparations were complete, for on the seventh day after the blizzard stopped, there was a commotion at the front door and Augusta opened it to find two perfect strangers on her porch.

“I know we’re early,” announced Emma Stratton, striding into the hall, certain of her welcome, “but I told Auggie if we waited two more days, we were liable to get caught in another of these terrible blizzards and never get here. And I would simple
die
if I missed this party.” She looked Augusta over critically and her plucked eyebrows rose. “When did you arrive? A little too early, aren’t you?” Her near-black eyes were hard and glittering.

“I didn’t exactly arrive, I live here,” answered Augusta, too thrown by this brazen greeting to make sense.

“What!” Emma’s pale skin grew even whiter, heightening the contrast with her brightly colored lips.

The look of shock and disapproval further confused Augusta and absolutely tied her tongue. She stook stock-still, helpless before this energetic amazon, expecting to be swept aside as she took command of the house. A slight diversion was created by the entrance of Emma’s brother, a tall, husky man of almost fierce appearance, with the same essentially aristocratic belief in his right to any privilege or property he wanted.

“Well, now, who could you be?” he asked, eyeing Augusta with an appreciation wholly different from that of his sister. “Emma made sure we’d be the first here.”

“I’m Augusta Hauxhurst, Burch’s aunt,” Augusta said in the softest of voices.

“Burch only has one aunt, and she’s dead” stated Emma, her hard eyes daring Augusta to contradict her.

“I know, and I’m not really his aunt, but Burch says he can’t call me Miss Hauxhurst all the time. He insists it’s too formal.”

“You’re much too young to be anybody’s aunt,” said Auggie Stratton, nearly as taken with Augusta as Lasso had been.

“I never knew anyone bothered to invent a fancy name for his doxy,” snapped Emma, “much less allow her to act as hostess to a party of respectable guests.” Augusta, only now realizing the role Emma thought she filled Burch’s household, became speechless with mortification.

“No need to be so unforgiving, Emma,” Auggie said. “It can get pretty lonely out here, and you shouldn’t begrudge Burch a few comforts.”

“I could care less about his comforts, but I won’t have this one flung in my face.”

“Who is it, Aunt?” called Sibyl, coming through the door at the back of the hall. “I thought I heard you talking to someone.”

“My God in heaven, he’s got two of them,” Emma stammered with an unbelieving gasp, “and they’re related.”

“Damnation, Burch will tell me where he found this pair if I have to break his neck to get it out of him,” declared Auggie, acutely envious of any man who could live with two such beautiful women at the same time.

“How do you do?” Sibyl said, coming forward to greet the unexpected arrivals. “You must be the Strattons. I’m Sibyl Cameron, Burch’s cousin. I’m so glad you were able to get here despite the snow.”

“Spare me,” rasped Emma, her voice harsh with contempt and her eyes blatantly insolent. She threw off her cloak, shaking out her long, black hair.

“I beg your pardon?” Sibyl faltered, completely unprepared for such a rude response.

“You can drop this show of gentility. Your
aunt
, or whatever she is, has already explained
what
you are.”

“I don’t think … I mean, it’s not quite what it seems. Oh dear, I hardly know what to say. You see, you really don’t understand at all,” Augusta finished up before her voice failed her entirely. Sibyl looked to her aunt for enlightenment, but the poor lady was utterly devastated.

Sibyl disliked Emma on sight, and her having subjected Augusta to some kind of embarrassment and spoken to her with unexplained rudeness merely supported her instincts. Her eyes grew hard and the smile froze on her lips. “There seems to be some misunderstanding. Burch and the men have still not returned. If there is something I can do …”

“You can pack your bags and leave, and take your aunt with you. It’s an insult to expect Burch’s guests to treat you like a decent woman.”

Sibyl’s eyes blazed in cascade of fury. “You will explain that remark and then apologize to my aunt, or I will see that your bags are thrown out the door and you after them.” Sibyl was not as tall or built on such generous lines as Emma, but the larger woman suddenly felt in need of her brother’s support.

“Now, ladies there is no call for this throw up.”

“I will
not
allow my aunt to be spoken to in such a manner in my own home,” stated Sibyl, turning on Auggie with such unabated fury that his fatuous protests were caught in his throat.

“Your home!” exclaimed Emma, unable to contain herself. “Of all the brazen nerve! I can’t wait to hear what Burch has to say when he finds his strumpets have been calling the Elkhorn home.”

The swiftness of Sibyl’s movement caught everyone by surprise. She slapped Emma so hard that she was knocked off balance and would have fallen if her brother had not steadied her. “Ned!” she called toward the back of the house, with a screech that would have caused her mother to blush to the very core of her gentle soul.

“Now you see here, missy …”

“No,
you
see here,” Sibyl interrupted in a voice tight with suppressed rage. “I am Wesley Cameron’s niece, and this is my aunt, Augusta Hauxhurst. Since I own half of this ranch, I feel entitled to call it my home. Now you will either apologize to both of us immediately, or you will leave at once.”

“How could we know?” mumbled Auggie.

“I don’t believe it,” Emma snorted, in a towering rage herself, “and I
won’t
believe it until I hear the words from Burch’s own lips.”

“What won’t you believe, Emma?” inquired Burch, breezing into the hall not far behind Ned. “Welcome, Auggie. I see you’ve already met my cousin and her aunt. Whatever caused you to get here so soon?”

“I begged Auggie to come early,” Emma purred, turning to Burch without trace of the hard anger of an instant before. “I was afraid we’d get snowed in, and it would break my heart to have to miss your party.” She threw her arms around Burch, expecting more than the brotherly peck on the cheek she got.

“Save your compliments for Sibyl and Aunt Augusta. They did everything themselves. What happened to your cheek? It’s as red as freer Emma paled, looking first to Auggie and then to Sibyl for help.

“Yes,” cooed Sibyl, “what did happen to your cheek?”

“I s—s—stumbled on a r—rotten step and hit it against the post,” Emma stammered, embroidering rapidly. “I was just saying I wouldn’t believe you were so careless as to not have it fixed unless I heard it from your own lips.”

“Is one of the steps rotten? I don’t remember, but I daresay you’re right. But let’s not stand here in the hall. Ned, see that the Strattons’ bags are taken upstairs. Come on into the front room. You won’t believe what Sibyl’s done to it since you were here. In fact, you won’t recognize a single room in the whole house. Is there a fire?”

“It’s already laid. All you have to do is light it.” Sibyl directed her answer to Burch, coolly ignoring Emma’s presence. The room won’t take more than a few minutes to warm up. You go on with them. I still have a few things to do, and Aunt Augusta will see that Ned puts their bags in the right rooms.”

Emma was relieved that Sibyl apparently didn’t mean to tell Burch what had really happened, but her displeasure at finding this beautiful woman living at the Elkhorn was nothing compared to her anger at the tender looks that passed between Burch and Sibyl. For the last several years, she had considered Burch her private property, to be picked up when she was ready. She was ready now and she had planned, with almost sole ownership of his company for a day and two nights, to arrange it so that their wedding would take place before the spring. It infuriated her to find she had competition. Even a cursory glance convinced Emma she could never rival Sibyl in looks, and she knew that Sibyl’s ownership of half the ranch tipped the odds heavily against her. From the hallway alone, she could tell that the house had been transformed. She did not underestimate the value of such comforts to a man; her job was going to be extremely difficult. Fear made her desperate.

“Everyone knows you’ve run this place for years and years,” Emma said, fawning over Burch. “It’s sweet of you to give your cousin all the credit, but men like you always get what they want.”

Burch tucked Emma’s arm in his hand and laughed. “You always did know how to talk up to a man, Emma. My uncle used to tell me if I believed half of what you said, I’d have a head stuffed with cotton.”

“Sis always did know how to please a man,” agreed her brother, quite willing to help Emma ensnare Burch.

“The only person she has to please for the next few days is herself,” said Burch, leading them into the parlor. “Now you make yourself comfortable while I start the fire. Sibyl will bring us some coffee in a few minutes, and in no time at you’ll forget it’s been snowing for the better part of six weeks.”

The door closed behind them and Sibyl stared hard at the barrier, a raging tumult in her mind: outrage at the woman’s incredible assumption; anger that she couldn’t throw them out; jealousy that she had to fix coffee while Emma sat with Burch. It was almost too much to bear that after waiting so long, she would be denied even a few precious words alone with Burch, denied them by the presence of a predatory strumpet.

“That was not a very good beginning, was it?” remarked Augusta, recovering slightly. “I never thought that our presence here would be the cause of any misunderstanding.” She colored at the memory. “Certainly not of that nature.”

“It wouldn’t have occurred to anybody else. She only thought of what she would do herself if she had the chance.” Augusta found it hard to believe that Sibyl would make such a scathing accusation of anyone, but she could see the hurt and the jealousy, and her heart went out to her.

“I shouldn’t think you would be required to see a great deal of her. Lasso is coming over tomorrow and Jesse is due back as well. With the party the next day, you won’t have time to give her a thought.” Sibyl offered no answer, but Augusta doubted she could do anything to ease her niece’s agony. “Maybe you’d better see to the coffee.”