Shyly, the girl eyed Perri’s business suit, with its fitted waist and mandarin collar. The severe style of dress might have gone unnoticed, but for how effortlessly it displayed her sleek, trim shape. And the fact that it was black. Nobody wore black at high noon unless they were on their way to a funeral.
Or a gunfight, Perri mused. How appropriate.
“Anything else?” the florist inquired.
“Thank you, no.” Perri smiled. The teenager before her was so fresh and pretty, with the dramatic looks of the Plains Indians.
“Here’s your change then,” the girl chirped, making the purchase. “Y’all come back.”
“I already have,” Perri whispered to herself, halfway to the door.
Back inside the car, Perri placed the beautifully wrapped roses on the seat and headed for the back roads. The sky had cleared to a bright, shiny blue, and it was wonderful to get off the highway. It felt right to wind through little towns, past pastures and railroad tracks, past small ponds and under the gentle arch of the windbreaks. She stopped in the middle of the road until an egret could make up its mind which way to fly.
As she drove on, a red pickup turned onto the road in front of her. A big black rottweiler riding in back seemed to smile as they drove past old Bohemian Hall. Some of her ancestors had settled right here after the Land Run of 1889.
She followed behind as the dog and his pickup led her onto Route 66. Her eyes automatically checked a field of wheat on the driver’s side of the road as she made the turn. “Short oats. That’s not right,” Perri muttered, frowning slightly. The wheat should be solid gold and ready to drop by now. Even she knew that.
The bridge over the railroad tracks into town looked a little shabby, and somehow smaller than Perri remembered. A World War II fighter plane, permanently parked in front of the American Legion Hall, seemed to let the traveler know he had entered another time. Spirit Valley, Oklahoma, announcing right up front that its ideals were as much a part of the past as the old plane, the tracks and the weathered bridge. Perri stopped at a light and tried to make sense of it all.
Elms lining Elm Street beyond the underpass had been planted over fifty years ago and now stood tall as she drove into the cemetery. She unwrapped the roses with her window down, listening intently. The sound of the wind filled the silence. No birds sang. At one time, hundreds of scissortails had inhabited this area.
Perri got out of the car with the separated roses. As she placed single white roses on different graves throughout the section, she asked herself what would they think? What would they do differently?
She approached a marble bench and bent to touch the new marker surrounded by funeral wreaths. Perri stared hard at the stone, before reverently covering it with the last rose. What have you gotten me into, Gannie? Rage, grief and a sort of deep, deep hurt she bad always associated with the loss of innocence, warred within her.
No one but Gannie had known exactly how she had felt. No one but Gannie had ever learned all of the truth about the most important event in Perri’s life: when she had lost him. “Why make it so I have to work with Matt?” she pleaded softly. “You know I’ll always love him. Why put me through this kind of pain?” What plan or project could be that important?
Dry-eyed and thoroughly bewildered at the part she now had been assigned to play, Perri stared at the fluttering rose for a long time. She had wanted a tribute that wasn’t staked in, fighting with the wind in order to stay.
Knowing the roses would most likely be blown apart and away before she made it out of the cemetery, she got back in the car and drove on. The sight of a martin frantically tailgating a hawk kept her from dwelling upon what lay ahead. Perri didn’t look back.
Perri parked in the lot adjoining the courthouse and the professional buildings. She made her appointment dead on time. The lawyer’s secretary eyed her outfit and smiled in understanding. “Go on in, Ms. Stone, please.”
Perri took a deep breath, knocked once and opened the door. Help me through this, Gannie, please, she prayed as she entered the room.
“Hello, John,” Perri smiled at her old friend and Gannie’s champion.
The room’s other occupant had obviously arrived early for their appointment and now stood with his back to the door. She noted that his stance was relaxed, as if this were his turf, not hers. He didn’t turn around upon her arrival, but instead stood staring out the window at the now-defunct railroad depot which housed the Spirit Valley Historical Museum.
Over his shoulder, Perri could clearly see the bronze plaque declaring that this spot had been the western boundary for the Run of the Unassigned Lands. At noon on April 22, 1889, the starting gun had sounded and two million acres of Indian Territory had been opened up for the Run.
By nightfall, a tent city had sprung up on the spot where they now stood. What their ancestors had seen that day, and shortly thereafter, bore no resemblance to the view through the window over which Matt Ransom now brooded.
She crossed to the upholstered chair the attorney indicated for her use. So. It would be a war of silence rather than reproach. Very well, Perri thought grimly.
John Deepwater retrieved the folders from his desk and handed one to Perri. With the dignity and grace that was so much a part of him, he turned to Ransom and said: “Shall we begin, Matt?”
Without a word, Matt took the file and his seat.
“I can read this word for word or just use plain English. You tell me,” John announced.
“English,” Matt said impatiently, not sparing a glance in her direction, “I’ve got a lot to do before sundown.”
Perri calmly nodded her assent. He was going to have to work harder than that to provoke her this time.
“Okay,” John began, “you both inherit the bulk of Gannie’s estate and share the duties of co-executors. The acreage behind the house that borders the Ransoms’ is left to Matt, up to but not including the horse barn. You split the oil royalties.” He paused on a wry smile. “I figure that will keep you two tied up in paperwork with the oil companies for at least a year and a half.
“Perri gets the house and the surrounding acres, from the horse barn to the highway, including the graveyard.” The attorney raised his eyes, as if to check and see how they were taking the fifty-fifty split. “And you both inherit this project of hers—the ‘Donated Land’ out on the lake. The money, accounts, etc., are divided equally, aside from some bequests listed on page two.” Pages rustled as the inheritors followed along.
“If you would like extra copies, just let me know,” he added. John’s gaze lingered on Perri. “And, of course, I will be glad to send a copy on to your attorney in New York, Perri, if you like.”
She returned the look calmly, certain he still couldn’t reconcile in his mind the sophisticated businesswoman she had become with little Perri Stone. Something was going on. She could feel it. Only her abiding trust in John Deepwater and the certainty that Matt didn’t know any more than she did, kept her from tensing up. It was arduous enough to hear John speak about the division of Gledhill. It just about broke her heart to think of it.
“It sounds pretty straightforward, for a piece of legal work,” Matt remarked as he rapidly flipped pages. “But you don’t seem too enthused, John. What is it?”
“Well, there’s one hitch,” John said calmly.
“Then let’s hear it,” Matt demanded.
That did it. “Oh, surely, Matt and I can work it out reasonably, John.” Perri cast a reproachful glance at this stranger she had once known so well. “If there’s something Gannie wanted us to do, I’m willing to make every effort.”
“Yes, well, darlin’,” John began easily, “what she wanted you to do was to marry Matt Ransom. If you decline, the land will be sold for condominiums.”
Two
Ransom wasn’t fooled. John Deepwater, Esq. was making a supreme effort not to smile as they absorbed the news. And allowing as how Deepwater’s poker face was a legend in the county, he almost pulled it off.<
br />
It was a successful effort by Matt’s estimation. But Matt had known John too long and too well. And what he knew of the man had him practically hovering over his chair, like a hawk just waiting for the field mouse to blink.
“Did she say why, in the blazes, she made our getting married a part of the deal?” Matt demanded in none too gentle tones. He felt Perri flinch at the word “married.” Well, he could hardly blame the woman for that.
Deepwater took a deep breath. “She said she wanted to get your attention,” he replied calmly. One would have thought little old ladies routinely made getting married a condition for inheriting their estates.
Well, Deepwater wasn’t the only poker player in the room. No one would have known from his stoic, emotionless expression just how deeply the memory of Perri in that back bedroom at Gledhill was weighing down Matt’s heart. Even though he was rocked by this latest development, he couldn’t pull his mind back from the way she had felt in his arms just a few hours ago.
It was all he could do to sit there and ignore her. He couldn’t get beyond the sight of Perri standing again in Gledhill. As if she had grown into a woman right here in Spirit, instead of a world away. He swore silently at the realization that he had sorely underestimated this woman. Just as he had obviously underestimated Gannie; and once, only once, his own late mother.
Yet again, he reminded himself of how wrong he had been to love Perri. He had shown such poor judgment in trusting her twelve years ago. For that, he no longer blamed Perri Stone. She had been too young; and Matt had repeated the same mistake after she’d gone. These days, he didn’t have much time for women and he accepted that. It was in some ways a pity, because he genuinely did enjoy them. He just had nothing to give a woman but himself, the land and a lot of hard work.
He hadn’t managed to do the one thing he had felt was his duty: To take care of those he loved. The fact that he still, after everything, wanted a family was something never examined. It felt almost shameful to want anything. The disastrous results of his own youthful pride had left him ashamed he still cared. And now, just about the only thing he had left was his own damn pride.
The silence stretched before Matt said quietly, “My attention or our attention?”
“She wanted both of you to pay attention,” John clarified. “She figured the condition of you two either getting married or losing the land would make an impression.”
Matt snorted and spared a glance for the woman seated at his side. Perri looked like she would run if she could just figure out how to go about it. It struck him solidly that if she did run this time, he would go after her.
It was a shock to discover how rapidly Perri Stone could sink back into his system. He didn’t care for it Matt clamped down hard on the urge to get mean twice in one day.
He had fully intended that kiss earlier to be antagonistic, maybe a little punishing. Matt had figured if he offended her just enough, she would keep her distance. That would be easier for all concerned. He really hadn’t planned to make love to her mouth. He still wasn’t entirely certain how that had happened.
A small portion of his brain puzzled over the fact that the taste of the woman could be so much more powerful than that of the girl she had been twelve years ago. He had loved that Perri with all his young heart.
Now the woman she had become summoned him on some deep level. That would never do. Matt would have sworn he could no longer feel anything that deeply and he had no intention of starting now. So it was back to business.
Deepwater went on talking. “The Ransoms and the Stones, and the Marlowes, through Perri here,” he said nodding in her direction, “would be announcing that they were united in an attempt to bring some sort of new business into the area. The town would see a strong commitment, a strong front.
“As you know,” John continued, “our parents and grandparents tried a couple of decades ago to position Spirit Valley for the future. But they made their efforts based upon Spirit as a continuing center of commerce.” He paused briefly. “Nobody dreamed it would ever get like this. So nobody planned for the worst.” John sighed. “They complacently expected things to continue as they had always been.”
Perri finally spoke. “I think accusing them of complacency is a little harsh, John. Nobody could have predicted drought, the oil bust and the railroad’s demise,” she pointed out.
“Thank you, Miss Oklahoma Girl Stater,” Matt interjected dryly, “but we’re getting off the subject here.” Didn’t she realize her calm appeal for reason was killing him?
Perri remained unruffled and coolly crossed her legs. He realized he was staring. He realized she knew it. How she could remain that placid was just beyond him. He made a mental note to set about breaking down that composed demeanor at the first opportunity.
Matt grimly turned his attention back to the man he was beginning to think of as “that lawyer.” “I want to know what Gannie said,” Matt demanded. “Why did she want me to many Stone here? And, Johnnie, don’t you give me that attorney/client confidentiality crap.”
John Deepwater looked his best friend in the eye. “She said it was time you did something you should have done over ten years ago.”
Perri inhaled sharply. John continued. “She said it was time that the Stone-Ransom animosity was put to rest for the good of all concerned. Now that you’re both older. Now that . . . you’re both single, Gannie felt it was high time you two got married.” He didn’t have to add, “now that Leila Ransom is dead.” The words John left unspoken were a silent outcry heard by everyone in the room.
“But why?” Perri spoke so low she might have been alone. “Why barter me and buy him? I have no interest in holding Matt to anything he said twelve years ago. As a matter of fact,” she continued, “I’m grateful to him for ending it. I was way too young to get married. Please tell me why she would do this, Johnnie.”
Matt was saved from responding to that bit about her being “grateful” when he saw Deepwater’s face gentle into a faint smile. As always, it softened the fierceness of his features to a surprising degree.
“Gannie said she promised your grandmother Anne to always look out for you and your mother.” Matt and Perri both displayed a momentary lack of composure at the mention of Peni’s grandmother, Anne. “She said it was time for the Stone/Marlowe women to stop running—mat you, in particular, needed to come home. That even later,” he added, “and divorced from Matt, you’d be accepted as a member of the community and not as an outsider. She said: ‘Perri needs to have her home restored. The Ransoms took it from her and they can damn well give it back.”
Matt sat silently, his mind racing around all the angles as John continued. “So folks, here’s the bottom line. Number one, you two have ninety days to accept or decline the terms of the will. If you marry, you stay married for at least six months before entertaining the possibility of a divorce—all the while, you must live together in the Gledhill place.”
Matt stirred indignantly at that. “I don’t have the time to be driving back and forth to the farm,” he said. “I’ve got horses to see to. I’ve—”
“Oh, please. It’s down the road, not even a mile,” Perri interjected. “I live 2,000-something miles away and you have the nerve to whine about how—”
“Number two,” Deepwater’s rich, courtroom voice filled the little office. “You come up with a plan to use the land she’s donated to Spirit in a way that will benefit the area. From the way she described it to me, what she wanted from y’all . . .”
John’s eyes were drawn to a photograph on the wall behind his clients’ chairs. His voice trailed off. Matt could almost feel him looking back to a time before the sound of the starting gun for the Run of ’89. The day the town of Spirit Valley sprung up overnight.
“Well,” John continued, “it was as if she wanted you two to homestead and make the improvements necessary to maintain a claim. I think that’s how she saw it, as a claim. I think it was important to her that the two of you were the ones to
find some way to bring people and commerce into the area.” John looked from Perri to Matt, letting his words sink in.
“But I don’t want to bring people into the area,” Matt pointed out politely. “I want them to stay out.”
“Well, then you’re going to have them in your lap, Matt,” his friend replied just as politely as you please. “The house and the land will be sold to the developers and you’ll have a condominium resting up by your east pasture.” The thought of that left all three of them breathless.
“Gary Kell is the attorney for the developers and he is just about beside himself, he wants that deal so bad,” John stated grimly. “So unless you put your back into this project, not only will you lose the inheritance of that land, you’re going to have people just about up your nose.
“Perri.” John continued, “I’ve seen the plans. They are trying to be sensitive and tasteful about it, but the condo will surround the old graveyard. Some of your family is buried there.”
Perri looked away.
“Of course, maybe that’s your preference,” he added with studied carelessness.
Well, that brought her head back around to stare him down. The tears in her eyes had dried in an instant and the green glints flashed with a renewed show of spirit.
Good, Matt thought. Whatever else had happened, the woman had acquired some grit along the way.
“Take the money,” John continued in the same indifferent vein, “and let us become even more of a bedroom community for Oklahoma City than we already are.”
“So, is that all?” The simmer and sizzle of Ransom’s slow burn could probably be detected all the way to Oklahoma City.
“No.” Deepwater replied soberly. “No.”
“Well?” Matt was in no mood to be strung along. And he still wasn’t fooled John had been looking forward to this. “What else did she say?”
Deepwater’s gaze fell upon Perri. “She said “Tell Perri I said it was time she stopped running and came home.’” Perri looked deeply into John’s eyes, as if she were trying to see Gannie’s face emerge from their onyxlike surface. “Tell her I said for her to just trust me.’”
The Bridal Promise Page 3