Wyoming Wildfire (45 page)

Burch didn’t like being swept up in Louisa’s plans, nor did he care for an evening he felt sure was bound to make his task all the more difficult, but he fell in with them without demur. “I wouldn’t want to do anything to cause you any trouble.”

“I don’t know what kind of hospitality Lexington offers its visitors, but I hope you’ve been able to find suitable accommodations.”

“Tolerable.”

“Good. Then if you’ll excuse us, Sibyl looks as though she could use some rest and quiet. You are not the only difficulty she has to face, so I hope that whatever happens you do not mean to add to them.” Burch looked puzzled briefly, then nodded in understanding.

“No, ma’am, I won’t add to them.”

Louisa looked doubtful of that being possible, but she nearely nodded to Burch. “We’d best be going, Sibyl.”

Sibyl looked helplessly at Burch, her eyes full of questions. She didn’t want to leave him, but she needed time to think. She had thrown herself into his arms, and for a few seconds nothing else mattered except that he had come after her. But the mention of Emma’s name had changed everything; she knew it mattered a lot. She loved Burch more than ever, but she still couldn’t go back with him.

“Sibyl,” he said softly as she reached the door, “I love you.”

“I never expected your cowboy to look so respectable,” Louisa commented thoughtfully when the carriage doors had closed behind them. “Jessica is in for quite a surprise, and Kendrick a considerable shock.” At Sibyl’s questioning gaze Louisa explained, with a ghost of a smile, “I don’t blame you. If any man like that had so much as looked at me when I was your age, I would have swooned.”

Sibyl couldn’t imagine her aunt swooning at any age, but she was grateful for her understanding.

“But don’t take that for approval. I still think he’s unsuitable.”

When Sibyl’s cousins learned that a real cowboy was coming to dinner, they fell into a fever of excitement.

“Good Lord, he’s not a two-headed monster,” Sibyl told them between laughter and vexation. “He’s a man just like anybody else.”

“Will he wear a big hat and those things on his boots?” demanded Priscilla.

“Will he wear his gun to the table?” asked Jessica.

“He doesn’t wear a gun,” laughed Sibyl, “and he’ll probably wear a suit just like your father.”

Young Henry pretended he was too old to be impressed by guns and spurs, but he was dressed and downstairs a half hour earlier than usual. Louisa was completely out of patience with her offspring and threatened them with dire consequences if they stared or spoke so much as a single word out of turn. The atmosphere was so close to that of a sideshow that Sibyl was tempted to pretend to a sudden illness.

Dinner passed off well. Burch arrived dressed in the severe formal style of black wool suit, starched collar, and black tie favored by Louisa and her husband, and quite visibly disappointed young Henry. Jessica was too overcome by his size and good looks to feel the slightest disappointment that he wore neither a gun nor his spurs to the table. And Priscilla, between her older sister and younger brother in age and maturity, couldn’t decide which attitude to take and consequently fell into complete silence.

Henry Randall was pleased to discover that Burch was a sensible man, and after spending the better part of the meal discussing the political situation in Washington, the fluctuating market for livestock, and the problems faced by any territory wishing to become a state, he felt they had probably judged all Westerners too severely. No one knew what Louisa thought, for she offered no opinion and no one dared ask her for one.

Sibyl hardly spoke at all. Words and fragments of sentences kept up a steady assault on her mind, conjuring up memories so bittersweet and painful that she would have been hard pressed to answer any question intelligently. It seemed so unreal for them to be sitting here, to all outward appearances like old friends, when powerful undercurrents of emotion were coloring every word and when the force of unuttered thoughts turned their spoken words into shadows, pale, meaningless fillers of time.

Sibyl wasn’t surprised at Burch’s complete ease, but she was a little hurt that he would virtually ignore her. You should be talking to me, explaining your wretched affair with Emma
to me,
not charming Uncle Henry into accepting you as one of the huge male fraternity. It was unfair for her to be forced to sit at the dinner table, acting as though nothing were wrong, while Burch made a conquest of all her relatives. He was in for a big surprise if he thought her uncle’s opinion would carry any weight with her. She had behaved foolishly before, but she wasn’t about to make the same mistake again.

Sibyl’s mood had not softened by the time they left for the ball. The two younger children remained at home, but Jessica, included in the invitation for the first time, was bursting with excitement. She could barely wait to point Burch out to her equally impressionable friends and whisper a few shocking sentences into their credulous ears.

I’ll introduce you around,” Henry Russell offered as they climbed into the ponderous family carriage, “but I wouldn’t bother to try to remember any names. There’re too many of them, and most are not worth the effort.”

“They’ll remember yours, and that’s enough for tonight,” said Louisa. “I trust you realize you can not spend the whole evening dancing with Sibyl,” she told him bluntly, fixing him with one of her direct stares. “I have no objection to everyone knowing that you’re here and who you are, but I refuse to allow you to do anything that will cause Sibyl to become the subject of gossip and speculation.”

“Won’t it cause just as much comment if I spend the rest of the time dancing with you and Miss Jessica?” Burch questioned.

Jessica giggled nervously, but Louisa was not shaken easily. “My corns won’t stand it, and of course you can’t single out Jessica in that way. If you can’t stand inaction, you can ask around. I imagine a man of your stamp is used to sizing up women at a glance.” In the dark of the carriage she directed an appraising look at Burch. “Living far away from civilization, you must have become quite adept at squeezing the most out of a few days in town.” Burch’s crack of laughter seemed deafening in the confined space of the carriage.

“Ma’am, you’d make a perfect rancher’s wife. Nothing puts you off stride, and nobody hides a thing from you.”

“I appreciate the compliment, but I find the same traits are quite useful in Virginia.”

“It’s a great loss to Wyoming.”

“Wyoming already has Augusta, and unless I’m mistaken, you’re bent on trying to talk Sibyl into going back as well. I think Wyoming is asking for more than its share of the Hauxhurst family.”

Louisa’s heavy disapproval did not affect Burch. “You can’t blame me for asking. Why should Virginia keep all that loveliness?”

“Because she was born here, this is where her roots are. I don’t believe people prosper when they’re removed from the only life they understand.”

“How do you explain Uncle Wesley’s success?”

“Your uncle would have been a success anywhere. He didn’t choose Wyoming above any other place; he just had to go
someplace
because he couldn’t stay here. Like Sibyl’s mama, he had his own solution, and I didn’t approve of either one.”

“Don’t you agree that Sibyl has the same need?”

“What Sibyl needs can be found in anyplace, or nowhere. As yet I’m not convinced that it has been found in Wyoming.”

“Whew! You don’t mince your words, do you, ma’am?”

“Not when straight talking is needed.”

“You needn’t talk about me like I’m not here,” Sibyl cut in, too irritated to remain silent any longer. “Neither of you can make my decisions for me.”

“I’ve already told you how I feel,” her aunt pointed out. “I thought Mr. Randall deserved to be equally well informed.”

Fortunately, since Sibyl had become considerably angered by this candid exchange, they had arrived at the assembly hall.

The dancing had already begun when they arrived, and their entrance attracted little attention. A few heads did turn to stare at Burch’s imposing figure, but they showed nothing more than the inevitable curiosity at the presence of a new and handsome stranger. “You’d better put your name on Sibyl’s dance card right away,” advised Louisa. “I expect it will fill up quickly.”

“Don’t forget yours and Jessica’s.”

“There’ll be time enough for that. I’m not as young as Sibyl, Jessica’s not as pretty, and neither of us is nearly as rich. I took Sibyl to visit one of her old friends a few days ago, and that miserable girl managed to worm the amount of the ranch’s yearly income out of her. If I know Clara Maynard, she wasted no time in telling every person in town. Once they learn you own the other half of that ranch, they’ll be beating a path to both of you.”

“The line forms at the cashier’s window,” Sibyl joked cynically and won a sympathetic grin from Burch.

“It is unfortunate that things should be this way, useless to complain,” remarked Louisa.

Before Sibyl could speak any of the thoughts jostling about in her head, the music stopped and people began to move in their direction. It was fortunate that Burch had already chosen his dances, for within seconds their party was surrounded by young men seeking a chance to dance with the beautiful heiress. Many an eager suitor remembered, when the news reached him, that he had always admired Sibyl’s beauty and viewed her intelligence and sharp wit as estimable traits that set her off from the average female. Among the crowd of hopefuls, Kendrick Hauxhurst assumed he already occupied the preeminent position. He approached Sibyl with a satisfied smile, certain he would be the first to lead her on to the floor.

“This dance is mine,” said Burch, whisking Sibyl right out from under Kendrick’s startled nose.

“Who is that?” Kendrick demanded irately of Louisa.

“The cowboy you were so sure was a dishonest, lazy bum,” said Louisa, unable to hide her satisfaction at seeing Kendrick’s face fall.

“Do you mean
that’s
Sibyl’s cousin?”

“Yes, that’s Burch Randall. He seems quite presentable.” She glanced at the awestuck faces about her. “And it seems I’m not the only one to think so.”

“A man like that can’t work a ranch. Not in all that dirt and grime.”

“Dirt washes off,” Louisa observed corrosively. “Sibyl’s uncle always maintained that Burch was a better rancher than he was. Seems to be quite a marvel, that young man. Not a bad-looking one, either.”

There was no need for her to contrast Burch’s tall, lean, muscled figure with the soft, slightly stoop-shouldered form of Kendrick. Not even his native prejudice could deny that next to Burch, he came off a poor second.

“But is he educated? Does he-?”

“He doesn’t wipe his mouth on his sleeve,” Louisa said with satisfaction, “and Henry says he knows more about the things a man ought to know than anybody of his acquaintance. I do not want Sibyl to marry him, but I’d be blind if I didn’t know that any woman who finds a man like that is a fool to give him up expecting to find a better one.”

Her opinion was shared by just about every other woman present. By the time Burch had danced with Jessica and Louisa, everyone in the hall knew who he was and how much money he was worth, and their curiosity was rampant. Mamas dispatched sons, husbands, brothers, or even casual friends to bring him over and warned a daughter to sit up straight and not show her buck teeth. It was widely believed that Sibyl’s capricious nature had caused her to refuse him so, therefore, he was fair game. When such an imposing presence was combined with a large income, it was foolish to balk at his coming from the territories. Why, in no time at all, if married to the right kind of girl, he might be turned into a perfectly respectable husband.

“You don’t seem to be enjoying your evening,” Burch said to Sibyl during their second dance.

“It’s worse than I drought.” Sibyl’s irritation had been replaced by anger, and Burch could see the familiar signs of battle: her blazing eyes, her erect carriage. “I told Aunt Louisa I didn’t want to come. Everyone is staring, just waiting to see what we’re going to do. Then they’ll spend next week gossiping about it.”

“Why do you care?”

“I have to face them every day and live with their dishonesty and hypocritical sympathy. You just see them as somebody you’ll dance with and never see again.”

“You can escape it by coming back with me.”

“Don’t start that. Not now, not here.”

“Why? What’s so awful about telling you that I want you to come back?”

“Not in front of all these people. They’re just waiting for me to do something they can disapprove of. They always have and I hate it.”

“Then ignore them.”

“I can’t. This is not Wyoming, where your nearest neighbor is ten miles away and you don’t have to see anybody if you don’t want to. Everybody’s related or has known you from childhood. There are no secrets, no privacy in this kind of community.” Her gaze fell on Moreton Swan as the music ended, and her mood turned sour. “There’s an example of what I mean. Moreton has brought his mama over. He can’t seem to go five steps without her, and I can tell she’s already preparing to give me a scolding.”

Burch had no trouble picking out the lady in question. She was dressed in unrelieved black, with no ornamentation other than a double strand of pearls knotted and hanging down past her waist. Her hair was pulled back in a tight bun, which might account for the expression of displeasure on her sharp features. Introductions were quickly made.