Wyoming Wildfire (50 page)

What would she do if he refused to let her stay? It would be impossible to return to Virginia and Aunt Louisa. Sibyl forced these thoughts from her mind. There’s no point in worrying about trouble before it gets here, she told herself; besides, it can’t be any worse than what I’ve been through already.

The sight of the great house, massive and quiet in the evening sunlight, silhouetted against the empty sky and the snow-covered hills in the distance, brought a lump to her throat. It didn’t remind her of Tulip Hall, not in the least. It was the Elkhorn and it was her home. She
felt
home. She rubbed a few sentimental tears out of her eyes. She hadn’t known how much she missed it—the sky and the openness, the marvelous feeling of limitless space. Virginia was the home of her birth, but Wyoming was the home of her spirit and she could never be happy anywhere else.

Nothing had changed; the drifts were still piled deep around the sheds, and the paths churned into thick mud. The wagon wheels made unpleasant sucking noises before coming to a halt in the space between the ranch buildings and the house. The ranch seemed deserted; there was no sign of anyone and even the cattle were out of sight.

The bunkhouse is the third building down this path,” Sibyl informed the taciturn driver. “You’ll find someone there to help you unload.”

After helping her down he went off, leaving Sibyl to muster the courage to approach the house by herself. She stood on the back stoop for several minutes, striving to find the pluck to turn the knob, until her own sense of the ridiculous came to her rescue. What a silly picture I must make, she thought, standing at my own back door like a naughty child. She opened the door and stepped inside.

Nothing had changed, and somehow she thought it must have. So much had happened to her it seemed impossible that everything else should be just as she left it. The chairs were still pulled up in a tight circle at the far end of the room, and a fire burned invitingly in the grate. She smiled. Burch must be in a mellow mood; he always said wood fires were too great a luxury to indulge in often, especially when the wood had to be hauled from the hills. The smells of cooking caught her attention, and she turned to the kitchen. A quick sampling of several pots informed her Rachel was preparing dinner and the weeks of Sibyl’s absence had not improved that good woman’s skill. The feeling of self-consciousness began to fade as Sibyl lost herself in doing what she could to render the evening meal more appetizing.

“I never could make it taste like yours.” Rachel’s calm voice nearly caused Sibyl to drop the pot into the fire. “I was hoping you wouldn’t stay away long.”

“I couldn’t.” A great wave of relief swept over Sibyl as the stern face of the older woman broke into one of her rare smiles.

“Do you mean to stay?”

Sibyl didn’t reply; how could she when she didn’t know the answer herself? Rachel seemed to understand. “Mr. Burch’ll be right pleased to have you in the kitchen again. You’ve ruined him for anything Sanchez or me can fix. If he doesn’t stop trying to starve himself, Miss Augusta will take him in, and that wouldn’t suit Mr. Lasso at all.”

Sibyl was on the verge of asking Rachel about Burch and her aunt when the back door burst open and Balaam blew into the room, eyes dancing and lungs gasping after the first sprint that old body had taken in nearly twenty years.

“Yippee!” he shouted, throwing his hat at the ceiling and doing a dance that resembled someone stomping a rattlesnake to death with bare feet. “I didn’t believe that mule-faced windsucker when he wandered in looking for some half-wit to do his work for him, but if you’re meaning to stay this time, I’ll carry every one of them trunks up the steps by myself.”

“I’m staying,” Sibyl said, smiling happily. Ned’s pleasure at seeing her, when he arrived at the house equally out of breath, made her feel truly welcome.

“If you mean to carry her trunks anywhere before you get some air in your lungs, you’ll be under the sod before morning,” Rachel scolded Balaam, but without the sharp edge in her voice Sibyl had come to expect. She looked inquisitively at Rachel, but her face was devoid of expression.

“Hush, woman. She didn’t come back to hear none of your jaw. It’s a pity the one she did come back for ain’t here.”

“Burch isn’t here?” Sibyl asked, even though she knew the answer already.

“Took Brutus and went hunting,” said Balaam. “Leastways, he took his guns, but he didn’t say nothing. He was in such a thundering black rage nobody dared to ask him, either. Came roaring in here like a wagon going downhill, and bit the nose off anybody fool enough to open his mouth. Said his dinner wasn’t fit for the hogs and threw it into the snow, damned me for a dried-up crust of something I wouldn’t mention in the presence of no lady, and told Ned if he stumbled across him one more time he’d have two gimpy legs. I don’t know if he laid his tongue across Rachel, cause I figured the less he saw of my hide the more likely I was to keep it.”

“Not everybody is scared of his own shadow” said Rachel.

“And not everybody’s got the sense God gave a prairie dog, either. Your skirts may keep you safe, but I ain’t got no such protection. Tangling with Burch when he gets himself in a temper may be your idea of fun, but then you’re a woman and they don’t ever have no sense. Most of them, that is,” he added after a swift glance at Sibyl.

“How long did Burch stay?” Sibyl asked, not even hearing Balaam’s slip of the tongue.

“Too long to my way of thinking. A big man like Mr. Burch ought not let himself get crazy mad like that. It’s not safe for them that has to be around him.”

“And he didn’t give you any idea how long he was going to be away?”

“I already told you nobody asked him any questions.”

“Not everybody,” Ned reminded him. “Rachel asked.”

“And did he give her any answer except a grunt?” returned the ungallant old coot.

“Not so’s you could understand it,” replied Ned, grinning. “It sounded a lot like a threat to slay everything with four legs and horns between here and Montana. I didn’t offer to go along to keep him company.”

“Of course you wouldn’t.” Balaam said with a wicked gleam in his eye. “Why should you want to leave such soft, warm comfort for the cold, hard ground?”

Sibyl was stunned to see Rachel blush deeply. If it had been any woman other than Rachel, Sibyl would have sworn she was acting like a young girl with her first beau.

“Stow it, you beak-faced buzzard,” Ned said darkly, “before I make a half hitch out of that sheep’s gut you call a body.”

“You’ll have to catch me first,” responded Balaam undaunted, “and you won’t do it, not with that gimpy leg and mooning about like a beardless boy half the day and night.”

“I’ll break your scrawny neck, and then we’ll see how loud you crow.” Ned attempted to get his hands on Balaam, but the old man was surprising agile for one so ancient and he danced out of Ned’s reach.

“Lover’s muscles,” Balaam jeered, “soft and spongy from laying in the nest.”

With another curse Ned was after him.

“Stop it!” Sibyl’s imperious command brought the two tomcats to heel immediately. “I don’t know the reason for this incredibly foolish behavior, but I won’t have it in my house.”

“It’s my fault,” Rachel said, looking dreadfully uncomfortable. “Balaam is worse than a horsefly in summer, and too wicked to give up teasing Ned.”

Sibyl’s expression didn’t soften.

“Didn’t Mr. Burch tell you when he was in Virginia?”

“Tell me what?”

“After we put your trunks on the train in Laramie, Ned and me got married.”

Sibyl didn’t know why she should feel so weak. She groped for a chair and sat down with something of a plop.

“Good thing you did go to Virginia,” Balaam informed her astringently, “You missed all that mooning and carrying on at first. They’re just starting to act human most of the time.”

Sibyl garnered her wits and pinned a smile on her face. “Naturally I’m very happy for you, but you’ll have to forgive my surprise. I had no idea you two even noticed each other.”

“Wouldn’t have if the pickings hadn’t been so slim.”

Ned surprised Balaam and got in a sharp rap to the jaw.

That’s enough!” Sibyl shouted. “If you can’t stop fighting, you can get out of this house.” She sounded so close to hysterics that both men gaped at her in bewilderment.

That’s enough, Ned, leave the old viper alone.” Rachel studied Sibyl’s face carefully, and she didn’t like the wild, cornered look in Sibyl’s eyes. “Maybe you would like to rest some, miss. You’ve had a long journey and you’re bound to be tired.”

“I’m sorry for raising my voice, but I can’t stand this fighting every time you meet,” she said with a weak, apologetic smile. “Especially not in the house.” The effort she was making to get herself under control was so obvious it was embarrassing.

“I don’t need defending, Ned,” Rachel said without taking her eyes off Sibyl, “not from an old bag of bones I’ve known for twenty years.”

“You’ve know each other that long?” Sibyl asked vacantly.

“Nearly. Balaam was old and wrinkled even then.”

“You won’t win any prizes at the fair yourself.”

“No, but I used to be pretty.”

“You still are to me,” avowed Ned.

“Blind!” exclaimed Balaam, rolling his eyes to the ceiling, “and gimpy into the bargain.”

The driver needs some help with the unloading,” Sibyl reminded the men.

“You’ll have to pry his eyes off her before he can hear a word,” Balaam said of Ned, who was gazing at Rachel adoringly.

“You said you’d carry Miss Cameron’s trunks all by yourself,” Rachel reminded Balaam. “If you don’t hurry up, that driver is going to take his wagon back to Laramie with them trunks still in it.”

“I need to talk to Ned anyway,” Sibyl added.

“I know what’ll happen,” muttered Balaam as he shuffled out. “He’ll stay here jabbering till everything’s done, and then he’ll come offering to help. I don’t know why love makes people soft in the head as well as the body.” He slammed the door behind him.

“Did Mr. Cameron say anything about when he was coming back?” Sibyl asked Ned.

“No.”

“Have you seen Jesse?”

“No. Balaam says he’s always about during the winter, but I haven’t set eyes on him once.”

Neither of them saw the expression freeze on Rachel’s face.

“I’m going to see my aunt. If Burch returns, send Balaam to get me right away. I’ve got to see him before he disappears again.”

“How long do you plan to stay at Mrs. Slaughter’s?”

“I don’t know.” It sounded strange to hear Augusta called by her married name. “It probably won’t be very long. I just want to give her the news from home.” Sibyl couldn’t tell them that it was impossible for her to sit around the house waiting for Burch to return. She had to do something to escape from her own doubts and self-accusations.

Burch sat staring off into the murky, fathomless distance. He had been doing so, unmoved, for the last hour. Brutus lay stretched out between Burch and the glowing embers of the fire he used to cook his dinner. They were nearly two hundred miles from the Elkhorn, in some of the most beautiful country in North America, but for days he had moved through it unseeing, unmoved by its majesty and grandeur, its unspoiled purity. He had even ignored the elk, bit horn sheep, and bear he had come to hunt. After a week on the trail, he had killed only one large prong-horned antelope to feed himself and his dog.

Everywhere he went, everything that met his gaze reminded him in some way of Sibyl. No, that wasn’t true. His thoughts were wholly taken up with Sibyl, and nothing else could enter his mind without being in some way related to her. The blue Montana sky became the sky above her head as she rode across the plains below the Elkhom; the towering mountains became the barrier of the Blue Ridge that separated their ways of life; and the sparkling streams became the glistening eyes that looked out at the world with such boundless vitality.

For the hundredth time, he cursed the stubborn pride that made him leave Lexington without waiting to see if she would alter her decision. He was a fool, a conceited jackass, to think she would change her mind in one evening just because he had asked her to. It had taken her weeks to decide to leave the Elkhorn; to turn around and go back now was not a step to be taken lightly, especially since Sibyl was endowed with even more stiff-necked pride than he was. She was capable of committing herself totally, but she would give nothing at all unless she was sure his pledge was as unconditional as hers.

Nearly twice a day, he would be on the verge of turning back, but he never did. He had left her, and he would have to wait for her decision. He had given up any right to plead his case on an equal footing when he stormed back to the hotel, brusquely ordered his bill, and stalked off to the train. The go back now would be to beg, and his pride stuck in his throat. He couldn’t do that.

But his mind perversely followed the circuitous path it established the first night away from Sibyl and had retraced every night since. No sooner had he accepted the finality of his decision than he began to undermine it. Was he fool enough to think that he was going to be able to forget her? Could Emma, or any other woman, erase from his mind the feeling of her body against his, the softness of her skin, the sweetness of her lips, the sheer ecstasy he found in her embrace? God, these thoughts tortured him every night. He dreamed of her, agonizingly close, maddening lovely, but every time he reached out to touch her, to kiss her, to feel her body join with his, he woke up in a cold sweat and would lie there for hours, more exhausted from the passions that ravaged his reason than from a day in the saddle, too wrought up to sleep.