Victoria Bylin – Brides of the West: Josie's Wedding Dress / Last Minute Bride / Her Ideal Husband (страница 6)

As he neared the pasture, he searched the perimeter for Smoke. He hoped the horse remembered him. It had taken weeks to earn the stallion’s respect, and he didn’t have time to start over. The Maze was less than a month away.

At the fence he propped a boot on the bottom rail and crossed his arms over the top one. In the far corner he spotted Smoke. The stallion’s coat had darkened, but he still had a silvery sheen that stood out against the sky and grass. If the mustang had the same fire inside, he could outrun any horse in Wyoming. Ty put two fingers in his mouth and whistled the signal he’d taught Smoke when he’d caught him as a yearling. The stallion raised his head, looked in his direction and froze. The first blast had wobbled a bit. Ty tried again. This time the notes were high and sharp.

Smoke broke into a run. Ty hopped the fence. The next thing he knew the horse was nosing his chest in search of carrots. With his heart brimming, Ty wrapped his arms around Smoke’s neck and gave thanks. He’d felt his kind of joy just once before. The day he walked out of prison, he’d felt both free and burdened by his bad choices. He’d wanted to be baptized, so he and Reverend Gaines walked fully clothed into the Cayenne River. The reverend said a prayer, then he bent Ty back and held him tight so he wouldn’t fall. Water rushed up his nose and he’d come up sputtering and full of joy.

He felt that joy now…a good measure, pressed down like grapes giving their juice. It tasted sweeter than honey. In this precious moment, he prayed for Josie, that he could be her friend and save her home. He prayed she’d forgive him. Another prayer formed in his mind, but he didn’t dare give voice to it. He had no right to think about loving her again, and if the truth be told, she’d hurt him, too. Not a single letter… Not even an angry one.

Smoke nosed him again. The force pushed Ty into the railing, and he thought of prison bars. Who said horses didn’t understand jail? Smoke wanted to be free…so did Ty. He wanted to go far and fast until he lost himself in a cloud of dust. He didn’t need a saddle to ride Smoke, so he swung onto the horse’s back. They circled the pasture once and came back to the gate. Ty reached down, unlatched it and Smoke broke into a gallop.

Breathing in perfect rhythm with his horse, Ty felt strong and free. With God’s help, he’d win the race for Josie. He’d give her back the life she’d lost. Maybe then he could make a new life for himself.

Chapter Three

Josie walked into the house, closed the door and leaned against it. She needed to clear her head before she spoke to her mother, but the older woman was coming down the hall in measured steps. Winnie Bright had no trouble navigating her home of twenty-five years. She’d lost the ability to read and see distant mountains, but she could detect patterns of light. She described her vision as looking through fogged glass. She couldn’t identify faces, but she had sharp hearing and remarkable intuition.

“Josie, is that you?”

“It’s me, Mama.”

The older woman emerged from the hall into the front room. Red gingham curtains were tied back, giving the sun full access to the parlor. The rays caught the silver in her mother’s braided coronet, a sharp contrast to the auburn that matched Josie’s own hair. The women would have been the same height, but Mama had shrunk with age and had stooped shoulders. Her posture worried Josie, mostly because she knew her mother’s back hurt all the time.

The older woman walked to her rocking chair and sat. “What happened with Mr. Proffitt?”

“He said no, but it might not matter.”

“Why not?”

“I have a new plan.” Josie sat on the divan. This was her place, where she sewed and fretted. “I found someone to ride in the May Day Maze… Someone who can ride Smoke.”

Mama tilted her head. “That horse belonged to Ty Donner.”

“That’s right.”

“Are you telling me—”

“He’s back.” In a brusque tone, Josie told her mother about Mr. Proffitt denying them a loan, meeting Ty and the decision to ask him to ride in the race. She ended the story with the description of the fight with Obie and Gordie. “I’m stuck with him now,” she said, sounding disgusted. “I hope he can do the work of three men.”

“Working hard was never Ty’s weakness,” Mama replied. “As I recall, the boy worked too hard.”

“He’s not a boy anymore.” Josie tried to sound disinterested, but she’d noticed Ty’s new maturity, both physical and otherwise. She couldn’t help but mourn the marriage and children she’d been denied. Biting her lip, she recalled going with Ty on a picnic and how they talked about the future. She told him that she wanted to give him a son, and he’d kissed her.

I’d like that, Josie girl. But I want a daughter, too.

She’d been surprised. Really?

She’ll grow up to be like you, and I’ll be scaring off boys like me… Someday she’ll wear your wedding dress.

The dress…Josie wished she’d sold it. Instead she’d wrapped it in muslin and shoved it to the back of the top shelf of her wardrobe. She couldn’t think about the gown without feeling bitter, but neither had she been able to part with it. The ruined wedding had been a fulcrum in her life, the tipping point where hope turned to loss and her faith dissolved along with it. If she got rid of the dress, would she heal or would she stay bitter forever? She didn’t know.

Mama put her rocking chair in motion. “Prison changes a person. I imagine Ty’s done some maturing.”

“I suppose.”

The bowed wood creaked against the floor. “Even so, it has to hurt to see him.”

How did her mother do that? Even without clear vision, she saw past Josie’s nonchalance to the pulp of her heart. Josie had been angry with Ty for chasing after the Scudders, but mostly she felt unloved. Just one day for a wedding…that was all she had asked. But it had been too much. Ty set aside her needs for his own, and they’d both lost everything.

Josie stood and went to the window. A line of trees marked the creek where she and Ty had stolen kisses. Her fingers knotted on the wide sill. “I wish he’d never come back.”

Mama kept rocking. “You have to forgive him.”

“I can’t.”

“Forgiveness is a choice, Josie. No matter what you’re feeling, you can say the words and ask God to make them true.”

“It would be a lie.”

“Or a start,” Mama countered. “Sometimes the feeling comes after the talking.”

“Why should I even try?” She sounded childish, but she didn’t care. “He left me waiting at the church. It was humiliating!”

“None of us is perfect. We’ve all made mistakes, but God loves us anyway. Ty paid dearly for what he did.”

“So have I.”

Mama let out a sigh. “Where is he now?”

“With Smoke.”

“I hope you invited him to supper.”

“I’ll bring a plate to the barn. I don’t want him in the house.”

The older woman raised her brows. “Perhaps I do. He was Nate’s friend, Josie. He was like a son to me. I’ve missed him.”

If the three of them ate supper together, Josie would remember the day he went after the Scudders. She’d watch him put too much salt on his food, and she’d know that he cut his meat into tiny bites, a habit from growing up poor and wanting to make the food last. She couldn’t bear the thought of being with him, so she shook her head. “I can’t do it, Mama. I’ll bring him a plate, but that’s it.”

“I won’t argue, Josie. But I hope you’ll think about it.”

“There’s nothing to think about.” But there was…she could think about the dress, the embarrassment and the life she should have had. If she thought about anything else—Ty fighting for her honor, his determination to win the Maze—she’d be on the verge of caring for him again. She had too many worries to let old feelings rise to the surface. She couldn’t let anything interfere with saving the Bar JB.

She took a final glance at the trees, then stepped away from the window. “I’ll start supper.” She went to the kitchen, but she didn’t go alone. She felt her mother’s prayers following her, whispering the words she couldn’t abide… Forgive him.

* * *

Ty couldn’t stay in the bunkhouse without speaking to Mrs. Bright. She’d been like a mother to him, and he’d hurt her when he’d let down Josie. He needed to apologize to her, and he wanted to offer his condolences for Nate’s passing. Josie didn’t want to see him, but he had to return the basket she’d used to deliver his meal. When he finished eating, he cleaned the plates and utensils, put them in the basket and walked to the house. Instead of going through the back door as he would have done five years ago, he went to the front door and knocked.

“Who is it, please?” Mrs. Bright called.

Ty cracked open the door. “Mrs. Bright? It’s me, Ty Donner.”

“Ty! Come in!”

He set the basket by the door and walked into the parlor. Mrs. Bright was on her feet and holding her arms wide. “Get over here, young man! I want to hug you.”

For one stupid moment, he was twelve years old again, even younger, and he was following Nate into the house like he belonged. With four kids in the Bright family—Nate and the three girls—Ty had been a welcome ally to the Bright males. He’d also been Josie’s particular nemesis in games of tag and other family fun. That had changed at a church dance. He’d seen her in a rose-colored dress with her hair half up and half down, and he’d forgotten all about tag. He’d asked her to dance, and a year later he’d proposed on the porch he’d just crossed. A year after that, he’d broken her heart.