A Gown of Spanish Lace Read online

  “I think I’m okay now,” she said with a nod, then flushed. “I’m…I’m sorry…I…it just caught me by surprise.”

  He longed to pull her close and hold her again. Instead, he reached out to help her to her feet. She stood shakily, still weak from the incident. She put out a hand to the trunk of the nearby birch for support. He moved back to hang the canteen on his saddle horn. He had to put some distance between them. He did not trust himself with his newfound knowledge.

  “Whenever you feel ready,” he said, his voice sounding stiff and forced.

  “I’m fine—now,” Ariana assured him.

  He nodded. Perhaps. Perhaps she was. What about him? Would he ever be fine again?

  He allowed the building of a fire when they stopped each evening. He knew they needed to be cautious, but he felt he could not deny her any small comfort that was within his means to provide.

  It was homey around the fire. Ariana always got out her Bible and read portions for her evening devotions. Rather hesitantly, he asked if she’d mind reading aloud. She nodded her assent, hoping her rapidly beating heart was not heard in the quiet of the still evening. Inwardly she prayed, over and over, that the words from the Book would be understood. That he might respond to the Gospel as it was given. Carefully she selected the portions for reading, praying that Laramie’s heart would be responsive to the message.

  As the evenings passed he seemed to be drawn in more and more. If he had questions, he asked, and she was patient as she explained her understanding of the passage. He began to look forward to those evenings and even thought of bringing out his mother’s Bible so he might follow along. He wondered if the notations in the margins might be helpful to both of them. But he never had the courage to make the suggestion.

  He had never been this intimate with anyone before. Sharing thoughts and feelings—and on occasion wishing he could also share his dreams. But he held them in check, for no matter how he fought against it, he could not envision his future without Ariana—yet that dream was an impossibility.

  He was sure Ariana understood nothing of his discomfort. Nothing of the struggle going on within him. But Laramie was very aware of the conflict he felt within. On the one hand he was most anxious to deliver her to the safety of the unknown uncle. On the other hand, once he did, he would have lost her forever. He knew that. It made him somber, moody. Something he had never been.

  Ariana did not understand why, but she did notice the difference. She supposed she had inadvertently done something to annoy him. Or was it that he was feeling the break with his father?

  She dared to broach the subject one night as they sat around the open fire listening to the voices of the night creatures.

  “What will you do after we get to my uncle’s?”

  The question brought his head up.

  “Will you go back to…to…?”

  “Back? No…I won’t go back,” he said thoughtfully.

  “I’ve…I’ve spoiled that for you…haven’t I? I’ve made…a breach between you and your father,” she went on, and there was apology in her voice.

  At first he looked surprised and then he smiled his slow smile. “I reckon you have,” he said frankly, “but not in the way you suppose.”

  She was puzzled but did not probe deeper.

  “Do you miss…your…father?” she asked after a time of silence, finally getting to the question she had been longing to ask him.

  “Miss ’im?” He stared into the fire a moment. “No,” he said frankly.

  She was sure her astonishment at his answer showed on her face.

  “I…I think of him…wish things could be different…but I don’t miss him,” Laramie explained.

  She drew up her knees in a manner he had come to recognize, and hugged them to her. “Oh…I miss my papa,” she said with deep feeling. “And Mama…so much.” A tear trickled down her cheek, exposed by the dancing firelight.

  He made a move as if to come to her, but instead said, “We need to git some sleep. We got a long ride tomorra.”

  “I remember,” called Ariana with excitement in her voice. “It’s Pinewood.”

  Laramie turned back to look at her, puzzlement on his face.

  “Pinewood,” she repeated. “That’s where Uncle Jake and Aunt Molly are. Near Pinewood.”

  He turned back to his mount. There—they had it. There would be no excuse to keep her with him now.

  “Last name?” he called back to her.

  “Benson. Benson—just like my father.”

  He guided his horse carefully over a fallen log.

  “Pinewood,” he repeated. “Guess we’d better stop first chance we git an’ find out jest where thet is.”

  When they finally found a farmstead, they were both amazed to discover how close they were to the little town of Pinewood.

  “Happen to know Jake Benson?” Laramie asked the farmer.

  “Jake? Sure I know Jake. Don’t have many neighbors out here, so ya make it a point to get to know ’em,” the man in the worn overalls stated. “Lives other side of town—’bout six hours from here.”

  Laramie was relieved to hear that they would have to share one more evening campfire, but he didn’t say so. Nor did he tell the farmer they would be camping out again. He was afraid the man might, in his friendliness, take Ariana into the family’s crowded cabin and offer Laramie the barn loft.

  “Thank ya kindly,” Laramie said with a tip of his head, and he led Ariana and the pack horse back out onto the dusty track that meant roads and civilization.

  “We’ll ride on fer an hour or two and then make camp,” he said simply. “Shouldn’t be much of a ride tomorra.”

  Ariana could hardly contain her excitement.

  Ariana trembled as she lifted her skirts and moved toward the farmhouse door. They had stopped back a piece, and Laramie had gone for a walk while Ariana took a quick dip in the cold waters of a small creek, then dressed hurriedly in her own clothes. She had not discarded the buckskins. Instead she’d folded them, almost tenderly, and put them in the bundle from which she had withdrawn her rumpled cotton. The buckskins had served her well. Calico or gingham would have worn through long ago on the endless trail.

  Ariana looked down at her faded dress. She certainly was not coming to her kin looking pressed and proper. Hesitantly she lifted her hand to rap. Then she cast one more glance back over her shoulder to where Laramie stood holding the horses. The brim of his hat was shading his eyes, so she could not read his expression.

  She took a deep breath and knocked on the wood. The door was soon opened by an elderly woman, a dish towel still in her hand.

  “Yes?” she said, then blessed Ariana with a smile. “Come in,” she welcomed and waved Ariana into the humble home. “You must be new here. Are you from the place down on Cedar Creek?”

  “No…no…I…” Ariana took a deep breath. “Molly Benson?” she asked tentatively. “Are you Aunt Molly?”

  The woman nodded her agreement but looked puzzled by the question.

  “I’m…I’m Ariana,” the girl managed. “George and Laura’s daughter.”

  For a moment the woman stood silent, her face showing shock. Then with one quick movement she gathered Ariana into her arms, holding her close as she laughed and wept in unison.

  “Ariana? Oh, God be praised. We all feared you were dead.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  A Joyous Hello and a Painful Goodbye

  “Oh, Aunt Molly,” Ariana said through her own tears and laughter, “I was afraid we’d never find you.” She realized that her long ordeal was finally over. She was back with those she loved. Her life could go on again.

  “What are you doing here, child? How’d you get here?” the woman quizzed excitedly.

  Ariana moved back out to the porch, drawing her Aunt Molly with her. She nodded toward Laramie, who stood with the horses.

  “It’s a long story—one I promise to tell—someday. It wasn’t safe for me to go back home. But we must le
t Mama know. And Papa. We must.”

  “You sit right there.” The woman pointed at a small bench in the shade of the porch. “I’m going for your uncle.” She started off toward a nearby field, removing her apron as she bustled along. Ariana watched as she ran, waving the apron in the air to get the man’s attention.

  “It seems you’ve caused quite a stir.”

  Laramie stood close behind Ariana. She brushed at the tears on her cheeks.

  “You know, I don’t think I really believed it would happen. Oh…I tried to have faith. I prayed. But it…it seemed so…so impossible at times. I don’t think I really thought that…that it would ever end.”

  He was silent for several minutes as they watched her aunt draw near to her uncle, arms waving, fingers pointing back at the house. Ariana could almost guess her words.

  “It’s been hard for you,” said Laramie simply. “I’m glad it’s over.”

  Ariana turned to him, her eyes brimming, her face flushed. “I…I can never thank you enough. Never,” she said with conviction. “If it hadn’t been for you…”

  Laramie shuffled uncomfortably. He reached up to push at the brim of his hat. At last his eyes lifted. “If it hadn’t been for me you’d still be in your own hometown,” he said huskily.

  Ariana’s eyes clouded. “What do you mean?” she asked him.

  He took her elbow and steered her to the porch bench, out of the bright rays of the sun.

  “I don’t know if you’ve guessed…if you’ve really understood it all…but you were brought to the camp…because of me.”

  Ariana was still confused.

  “I…I wasn’t quite…shapin’ up…like my pa…had planned. You see…” He hesitated, then swallowed. “I had never…killed a man.”

  “Killed a man?” she whispered. “I don’t understand. That…is a fault?”

  “In Pa’s eyes,” he said simply.

  Ariana shivered.

  “But I don’t understand. What did that have to do with me?”

  He took a deep breath. “Pa figured I’d…I’d be forced to…to…git into a fight over you…an’ have to use my gun.”

  “But I—”

  “You had nothin’ to do with it—directly. Only indirectly. Pa knew thet there’d be other fellas who would…anyway, he figured there’d be a showdown—likely with Skidder—”

  “Skidder?” said Ariana with a shiver. “Is he the one who said those awful things?”

  Laramie nodded.

  “But why would Skidder—? Why would you—?”

  “Pa thought I’d fall in love with you.” He said the words hurriedly as he watched the man and woman scurry up the lane.

  She was shocked. “But that’s—preposterous,” she exclaimed.

  He started to say something, then stopped.

  Then her eyes softened. “I’m sorry,” she whispered to him. “I didn’t know. I’ve been the cause of…a lot of trouble between you and your father.”

  His face showed his surprise at her words.

  “But I am glad—and I cannot deny it. Glad—and thankful—that you never…never killed. I…I just…don’t think you are that kind of man.”

  “Ariana, I’m an outlaw,” he reminded her.

  “Not anymore you’re not,” she said quickly. “And I don’t believe for a moment you ever would have been if you’d been given the choice. I’ve seen…enough…to believe that you—you’re not like that.”

  By now the man and woman were rushing into the yard, panting from the hurried trip from the field. The short, private conversation was over. All Laramie could manage was a quiet “thank you.”

  Then her uncle was rushing toward Ariana, his arms open.

  Everything seemed in turmoil after the quiet days on the trail. Jake Benson hitched a team to the wagon and hurried off to town to send a wire to Ariana’s parents. Molly fluttered about the kitchen, laughing, praising the Lord, and crying by turn. Ariana, flushed and excited, talked more in a few short hours than she had during the last four months.

  Laramie withdrew from all the commotion, not used to the intensity of emotions, the free expressions of love and tenderness between Ariana and her family. He spent his time at the corral tending to the horses.

  Slowly he unpacked the pack horse, lifting aside Ariana’s small bundle. His job was over. He had delivered her safely to her aunt and uncle. They would take over now.

  So what was he going to do? He had not thought about it. He could not turn around and go back. He wouldn’t have wanted to, even if that was possible. Yet he had no particular skills—other than with a gun. Had never really worked. He was adrift. Freed from a world he had never felt a part of, to enter a world where he did not fit. What would he do?

  He climbed up on the rail of the corral to watch the horses and ponder the question. He’d have to find work—somewhere. Maybe he should go back to the small town on the side of the hill, buy himself a grub stake, and try his hand at finding gold. Maybe he could look up a ranch and hire himself out as a cowpoke. He was good with horses. He might work fine with cattle, too. Maybe he should—

  But every idea that came to him brought little inner response. Nothing seemed to connect with him. Yet here he was—for the first time in his life—free to make his own decisions.

  He couldn’t understand his mood.

  “Aw, it’s jest the letdown after all the days of tension,” he tried to tell himself. But down deep inside he knew the real reason. It was Ariana. Once he left her, he would never see her again. His pa had been right. Loving a girl could nearly ruin a man.

  “Hungry?”

  Laramie’s head jerked up as Ariana came up beside him.

  “Aunt Molly has fixed tea,” she announced.

  At the look on Laramie’s face she began to laugh. A soft, joyful laugh. It was the first Laramie had heard her laugh so freely in all the months he had known her. It was a reminder of how much they had taken from her in holding her captive in such a degrading way.

  “You don’t have to drink tea,” she said with a sparkle in her eyes. “I’ll fix you some coffee.”

  Laramie supposed he should be hungry, but he really had little appetite.

  “It’s not the tea,” he was quick to inform her, not wanting to be uncivil. “It’s just that—” He let his gaze drop to his trail-dusty attire. “I’m not really fit company an’ I—”

  “Oh, come on,” she coaxed. “Uncle Jake and Aunt Molly are just ordinary folk. Farmers. Uncle Jake didn’t change out of his dusty overalls.”

  “It’s not just the…clothes,” he said, still hesitating. “I…hardly fit in with…proper company. I know little of—what do you call it?”

  She smiled again. “Social graces? I promise we won’t expect you to use one of those little teacups and eat bite-size sandwiches.” Her eyes were twinkling again.

  He was still uncomfortable.

  “We’re going to eat on the back porch,” she continued.

  He reached up one finger to tip back his new Stetson.

  “You have to start sometime,” she encouraged. “We won’t be eating around a campfire anymore.”

  She had said “we.” Was that just a slip? Surely she wasn’t thinking that he intended to hang around.

  “Come on. Aunt Molly is anxious to get to know you better. She’s worried about letting you sleep in the loft. Says it’s not really fixed for guests. I said, after where we’ve been sleeping—”

  He stopped her. “You’re not thinkin’ I’ll be stayin’ here, are you?”

  Her eyes widened. He could tell from her expression that it was exactly what she had been thinking.

  “Where else—?”

  “I can’t.” He shook his head.

  The concern in her eyes deepened. She reached out and put a hand on his arm.

  “But I thought—I mean, I never dreamed—that you wouldn’t stay.”

  “I can’t,” he said again.

  “But Papa and Mama will want to meet you.”

&n
bsp; “Your papa and mama? I thought they were back in Smithton.”

  “They are. But they’ll come. Just as soon as they get the wire—they’ll come.”

  He shook his head stubbornly. “I don’t think they’ll be wantin’ to see the likes of me.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I was the reason…remember? I was your…prison guard.”

  She looked annoyed. “Can’t you get past that?” she said tersely. “You brought me out. You risked your own life to help me get back to my folks. That’s what they will think about and remember. That’s what I remember.”

  He shuffled uncomfortably. She might forgive so easily—but could her parents?

  “Come on,” she coaxed. “We’ll talk about that later. Come—have some sandwiches. Aunt Molly has them ready and Uncle Jake looks like he’s about starved.”

  He was totally aware of the fact that she still had her hand on his arm.

  “Sandwiches,” he agreed and let her lead him toward the house.

  Ariana hummed as she prepared herself for the evening meal. She didn’t remember when she had felt so lighthearted. It is so wonderful to be free, she exulted inwardly. It almost made her giddy.

  But it was more than that. Perhaps it was because she now knew the real difference between imprisonment and freedom—fear and security. Perhaps it was because all the bottled tension of the past months was seeping slowly from her, making room for happiness to spill back in. Perhaps it was the loving welcome that her uncle and aunt had so willingly extended, making her feel so loved and accepted.

  Perhaps it was—Laramie.

  Ariana blushed, even though she was alone in the room.

  What were her feelings concerning Laramie? She didn’t know if she could answer the question—even in her own heart. But she did realize that her feelings had gone about a slow change during the days they had traveled to freedom together.

  At first he had been her captor, and she had feared him just as she had every aspect of camp life. She was confused and lonely and terribly frightened. He had seemed civil enough. But he was the one guarding her as prisoner, and so she had remained aloof, on guard, watchful for any sign that might show his true colors.