Victoria Bylin – Brides of the West: Josie's Wedding Dress / Last Minute Bride / Her Ideal Husband (страница 10)

Josie’s breath caught.

“Yeah, I know.” Ty grimaced with shame. “It was an awful thing to say. Brant was younger than me. He needed comfort—even forgiveness—and I’d have spat on him if Nate hadn’t been there.” Heavy with guilt, he turned to Josie. “You begged me not to go that day. You were worried about the wedding, but there was more to it. I think you were afraid of what I’d do.”

“I was,” she admitted.

“If I’d listened to you, Brant would be alive. He deserved to go to jail, but he didn’t deserve to die. I wanted to think I was justified in killing him, but I wasn’t. We all mess up, just in different ways. I hurt you the same way Brant hurt me. He stole my horses…I stole your future. That’s why we’re here today, Josie. I want you to know that I understand what that day cost.” To be sure she heard his next words, he took her hand. “I’m asking you to forgive me for everything I did wrong.”

He needed her to say something, anything, but she was staring blindly into the gorge. Finally she tightened her fingers around his. Their hands made a fist of sorts, though whether it signaled unity or anger he didn’t know. Nothing stirred. Not a blade of grass. She released his hand slowly, as if she didn’t realize she’d been holding it, then she pressed her palm to her chest and faced him. “Do you know what that day was like for me?”

“I’ve imagined it.”

“The whole time you were gone, I prayed you’d come back alive. I wasn’t even thinking of the wedding. I was thinking of you.” Her voice barely rose above a whisper. “Do know how long you were gone?”

“Too long.” He and Nate had taken Brant’s body to town. They’d talked to the law, then gone to the saloon and each downed a shot of whiskey. Ty had raised a toast to justice. The irony of that moment still stung. So did the memory of arriving at the Bright ranch in the light of a full moon and seeing Josie pacing in the yard. “I know it was late,” he admitted.

“It was after midnight!”

He remembered, too. When he’d ridden into the yard, she’d hoisted her skirts and run to him. He’d slid off Smoke and into her arms.

Josie glared at him. “I was too relieved to be angry. Do you remember what you said?”

“I remember kissing you.”

She blinked, but her eyes stayed hard. “You said you were sorry to scare me, but you’d do it all again.”

“I wouldn’t do it now.”

“Now doesn’t matter.” She looked at him as if he were stupid. “We invited the whole town to watch us get married. My mother baked our cake. It was the last one she ever made because of her eyes. I spent hours making the dress, not because I love to sew but because I loved you. I’d never been happier in my life…then Nate came to the church. Not you…”

“I wanted to go myself, but you know what happened. The sheriff arrested me on my way there.”

“It wouldn’t have mattered.” She stared back at the gorge. “The damage was done, and things got worse with every day that passed.”

“Because of the trial.”

“Yes.” She clipped the word. “People offered condolences instead of congratulations. I felt like a widow without ever being a wife.” Her voice quavered. “And it didn’t stop… For six months people asked me about you…about us. The rude ones asked if I was going to wait for you.”

He’d wondered about that himself. “What did you say?”

“I said no.” She faced him with a bit of a smirk. “That led to some very nice invitations.”

For five years Ty had wondered about something. “Did that jerk Paul Whitman come calling?”

“Paul’s not a jerk.”

“So he did.”

“Yes,” she admitted. “But I didn’t love him. I couldn’t, and that’s what hurt the most. I wanted to be your wife, not his! I loved you—” Tears welled in her eyes. “And I can’t seem to love anyone else.”

“Ah, Josie.” He reached for her, but she turned her back, perhaps to hide her face and the threat of tears. He ached to comfort her, but he had nothing more to give. He’d done what he’d come to Rock Creek to do. He’d asked Josie for forgiveness. He wouldn’t beg, but he could hope she’d find the grace to let go of the hurt. It wouldn’t happen today, so he went to the horses. “I’m ready when you are.”

With her chin high, she walked to Maggie. “I’m ready.”

She climbed on the mare, and Ty mounted Smoke. As they turned to the trail, Josie stopped the horse in its tracks. Ty reined in Smoke. “What is it?”

“I want you to know, I heard everything you said.”

“That’s a start.”

“Maybe.” She hesitated. “I want to be done with these feelings, but I’m like a bug in a jar. I can’t get out.”

“It’s like prison.”

“Yes.”

He risked a smile. “There’s a sure cure for feeling trapped, and that’s a hard run on a fast horse. Want to race home?”

A bit of sass flashed in her eyes, and she kicked Maggie into a run.

Ty gave her a head start, mostly because he wanted to watch her hair blowing in the wind. He loved her. He always would, but the future remained uncertain. He gave Smoke the bit and off they went. Chasing after her seemed fitting. Catching up to her was even better. Side by side, they galloped like the kids they used to be. Whether it was the end of the past or the start of the future, Ty didn’t know. But he hoped it would be both.

* * *

Josie stepped into the house with her thoughts in a whirl. She’d left Ty in the barn to tend to the horses, and he’d told her not to bother with a basket for his supper. She’d never known him to skip a meal, but she hadn’t argued. They both needed breathing room, and Josie would be unsettled until she looked at the wedding dress. She didn’t want to speak to anyone, not even her mother, but Mama called to her as she came in. “Josie? Is that you?”

“It’s me, Mama.”

“How was the ride?”

“I don’t know.” Her voice wobbled. She stepped into the front room where she saw Mama knitting as usual. “I’m kind of tired. I thought I’d go to my room and rest.”

“That’s a fine idea.”

Her mother no doubt wanted to hear about her talk with Ty, but Josie had nothing to say until she saw the dress. Oddly nervous, she went to her room, closed the door and approached the wardrobe that once belonged to her grandmother. Heavy and made of mahogany, it had held Josie’s clothes for as long as she could remember. Slowly, as if approaching a dove instead of a piece of wood, she opened the double doors and looked at the top shelf. There she saw the muslin-wrapped wedding dress, neatly folded and tied with a piece of twine.

She remembered putting the dress on as plainly as she recalled taking it off. Both times she’d been in this room. In the morning she’d dressed with her sisters. Anne had done her hair, and her parents had driven Josie, Anne and Scarlett to the church in the freshly polished carriage. She’d felt like a princess about to become a queen, but then Nate broke the news about Ty. She’d wanted to see him immediately, but she couldn’t stand the thought of walking into the jail in her wedding gown. Her father took her home, and she’d taken refuge in the room where she stood now.

Before removing the dress, she’d stared at herself in the oval mirror still standing in the corner. One by one, she’d undone the buttons, thinking of the wedding they wouldn’t have. Next she’d slipped out of the sleeves. The dress had fallen at her feet in a fluttering of silk. Covered by petticoats and a chemise, she’d folded the dress and wrapped it in the muslin. She’d looked at the muslin many times, but not once had she looked at the dress.

With shaking fingers, she lifted the package and set it on her bed. She pulled on the twine and the bow unraveled. She set it aside, unwrapped the covering and lifted the dress to the light. Even wrinkled, it glowed white in the sun. She stared at the lace she’d stitched into place, the white sash she’d embroidered with roses, then she held the dress to her shoulders and looked at herself in the tall mirror.

Instead of herself as she was now, she saw the seventeen-year-old girl who’d expected life to be easy. That girl hadn’t been spoiled, but she was naive. The Bright family had always had enough. The bounty showed in the wedding dress. The silk came from a San Francisco dressmaker, and the pearl buttons had cost a small fortune.

Most of Josie’s friends made special dresses for their weddings, but their gowns were made to be worn again as their Sunday best. Josie’s dress had been different. As a girl she’d seen a white wedding dress in the Godey’s Lady’s Book. A white gown as a symbol of purity went back to Queen Victoria, though some Americans credited the tradition to Eleanor Custis, George Washington’s niece. In addition to a white dress, Eleanor had a worn a veil. The story went that her future husband first glimpsed her through a window covered with a lace curtain, and she wore the veil to capture that moment of “love at first sight.”

Josie had planned to wear a veil, but she loved the dress most. Holding it against her body, she looked at the short sleeves that puffed like clouds. The front of the bodice was flat across her torso, while the back gathered to make a small train. A white sash was tied into a bow, and the tails would have fluttered as she walked.