The Wayward Heart

by Jill Gregory

  “Buck, stop it!” Annie clung desperately to the cowboy’s shirt. “What are you doing? He’ll kill you if you try to fight him! And why you have a grudge against him, I wish I knew!”

  “He knows damn well why I got a grudge against him! No man knocks me down and walks away without a bruise afterward!”

  “I reckon that’s not true, cowboy. I shore did,” Jim drawled.

  Buck began to struggle free again, but Annie clung to him with mulish tenacity, and by that time Bryony had dismounted and was hurrying forward.

  “Buck, stop being such a hare-brained idiot!” Though she tried to sound calm, her heart was racing. “I mean it! Forget what happened. You know perfectly well that he could kill you instantly if he wanted, and I need you too badly as my foreman for you to get yourself killed over something foolish. Now do me a favor and tie up our horses.”

  These words recalled the wrangler to his sense of duty, and he stopped struggling, though his face was still red and angry, in marked contrast to Logan’s careless countenance.

  “I wouldn’t get myself killed Bryony,” he muttered defensively. “Not if we used fists ‘stead of guns. I can fight as well as any man—and I sure don’t need no womenfolk to protect me!”

  “Of course you don’t.” Bryony barely managed to keep from rolling her eyes. “But I came here to see Mr. Blake and Annie—not to witness a fight. So please oblige me by controlling your temper or I’ll be sorry I let you come along.”

  Buck stuck out his chin, still looking as if he’d much prefer to fight, but her words had the desired effect on him. He scowled, but made no effort to approach Logan again.

  Annie drew in a breath of relief as Bryony whirled to face Jim Logan.

  Still he showed no trace of emotion as she met his gaze. Without a word to her, but with that same hard smile on his lips, he strode swiftly toward his horse and swung easily into the saddle.

  After calling out a calm farewell to Annie, he didn’t even glance Bryony’s way.

  Her heart dropped.

  How could he be so indifferent to her? Could she have imagined the force of his feelings in the cave?

  Suddenly she was ashamed of the intense emotions that had burst through her today when she’d seen him. Taking a deep breath, she had to fight the urge to burst into tears.

  “What did you come here for?” Annie Blake demanded, the sharpness of her tone recalling Bryony to her surroundings. Buck had obediently tethered their horses to the hitching post, but he too was watching Bryony curiously.

  “I’m here to speak to you and your father, Annie. May I come in?”

  “Suit yourself. Pa’s out on the range, but you can speak your piece to me. Come on.”

  She began to lead the way into the ranch house, but stopped midway up the steps and glanced back at Buck, her cheeks flushed with color.

  “Buck? Want to come inside? There’s a pitcher of lemonade...”

  “Nope, Annie, I gotta track down that no-good ranch hand of yours, Bill Jenks. That varmint owes me twenty dollars from a poker game last week, and it’s about time he paid up. Bryony, just give a holler when you’re ready to ride for home. I won’t be far.”

  He sauntered towards the corrals, whistling, and leaving Annie staring after him with disappointment in her eyes.

  “Annie, let’s go in and talk,” Bryony suggested, a sympathetic smile touching her lips. “I think you’ll be interested in what I have to say.”

  Once inside the ranch house, Bryony couldn’t help noticing how modestly the Blakes lived. In fact, the house was as plain as Annie herself. Only a single woven rug adorned the dark wooden floor of the adobe building, and the rooms were tiny compared to those at the Circle H.

  But everything was clean and in its place, and she followed Annie quietly into the sitting room, where a shabby chintz sofa, a worn rug, and a trio of straight-backed chairs were arranged near a rough-hewn pine table.

  The strong odor of tobacco was everywhere, and Bryony noticed an assortment of pipes in a rack on the wall. She also noted the shotgun propped against the fireplace in the corner.

  “So, what do you want?” Annie demanded in her blunt way, eyeing her guest with distrust. “I’ve got chores to do and supper to fix, and I don’t have time to dawdle around all day, so you’d best spit it out. What’s on your mind?”

  By this time, Bryony had somewhat recovered from the shock of seeing Jim Logan, and she was thinking more clearly. It was obvious to her that Annie’s dislike hadn’t lessened over the past few months, and she was determined to put an end to it. Suddenly, it became very important for Annie and Sam Blake to attend the fiesta.

  Seating herself on the creaking sofa, she folded her hands in her lap, then smiled at Annie.

  “I’d like to invite you and your father to a fiesta at the Circle H Ranch on the twentieth of this month. Have you heard about it? I do hope both of you will come.”

  “Heard about it?” Annie laughed derisively. “Everyone in the whole territory has heard about it. That’s all anyone ever talks about—the fancy fiesta Miss Bryony Hill is throwing at the Circle H Ranch. Well, you may have a nice big crowd for that party, but you won’t see me or my pa there. We’d sooner drop dead than set foot inside your house.”

  “So you still hold my father responsible for the troubles that have beset your family? And you still believe I’m equally to blame?”

  “Well... I reckon we don’t hold you to blame for nothin’,” Annie conceded reluctantly. “Jim Logan explained as how you had no idea what was goin’ on, and never took no part in it.”

  “He did, did he?” Bryony kept her voice level with an effort. She wondered what else Jim Logan had told Annie about her, but she didn’t have time to reflect on this, for Annie had given her the opening she needed.

  “That’s fine, then. I’m glad. May I ask why you don’t want to come to the fiesta?”

  Annie’s lips tightened. “I don’t hold with parties much, Miss Hill, and I don’t aim to be obliged to your hospitality. I’ve got better things to think about than fritterin’ away my time at some idiotic party, with a lot of drinking and dancing and just plain foolishness goin’ on. I don’t want to come, and I won’t.”

  “You don’t want to, Annie—or you’re afraid to?”

  “What are you saying? I’m not afraid of nothing! And anyone who says different is a low-down liar!”

  “I say different. And I’m not a liar.” Bryony met her furious glare, and searched the girl’s face. “You’re afraid of a number of things, Annie. I think you’re afraid to put on a dress and act like a lady. You’re afraid to show that you’re a woman, with a woman’s feelings and cares and fears. You’re afraid to go out and face Buck Monroe, to fight for him like a woman fights for a man. You’re afraid you won’t be pretty enough, or smart enough, or sweet enough to attract him, and so you just plain don’t even try.”

  Suddenly, her tone softened. “I understand, Annie. I know you’re scared right down to the tips of your boots.”

  Annie clenched her fists. “Get out of my house.”

  “I’m going to leave, but that won’t solve your problem, will it? Because what I said is true.” Her tone softened. “Look into your heart and you’ll see that it’s true.”

  Annie’s mouth trembled as she stared at Bryony. Suddenly, her hazel eyes filled with tears, and she buried her head in her hands, sobbing with all the force of her long pent-up unhappiness.

  “Yes, it’s true!” she gasped.

  Bryony sat down beside her and put an arm about her shoulders.

  Annie’s sobs came faster. “It’s all true. I want Buck so much—I love him! But I know he’ll never look at me twice. It’s you he loves—I can see it plain as day!”

  “Nonsense.” Bryony shook her head. “Buck has an infatuation with me—a foolish infatuation that I assure you means nothing. I know, because I’ve had more than my fair share of infatuations with men. But none of them meant I was in love. Really, I didn’t know th
e first thing about being in love until...” She broke off abruptly, as Annie raised glistening eyes to her face.

  “Until what?”

  “Never mind. It isn’t important. What is important is that I believe Buck could fall in love with you—if given half a chance. Look, I imagine he’s known you for years, hasn’t he? Well, for heaven’s sake, that’s part of the problem. He thinks of you the way he does his old saddle—familiar and comfortable. He doesn’t think of you as a woman. He needs to see you as a woman—a woman he could love! And Annie, I must admit that the clothes you wear, and the way you fix your hair, doesn’t do very much to counteract his taking you for granted. The first thing you must learn is to have faith in yourself as a woman, and then dress and behave like one. Tell me, don’t you have any other clothes besides these dreadful old baggy jeans and woolen shirts you’re forever wearing?”

  The girl sniffled and glanced at her shapeless clothes in some surprise. “I never needed none besides these. They’re good, reliable work clothes, and that’s about all I do is work.”

  “Wouldn’t you like to do something different now and then? Wouldn’t you like to go on picnics or to fiestas occasionally?”

  Annie wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “I reckon. But... I guess what you said was right. I... I wouldn’t know what to wear or how to act. Folks would just laugh at me.”

  “No one’s going to laugh at you, Annie. I promise you that. If you let me help you, I’ll see to it that half the cowpokes in the territory are swarming at your doorstep in two weeks! You’ll see—attracting men is easy.”

  Annie looked skeptical.

  “The important thing,” Bryony said softly, “is to like yourself. And to have faith in yourself. Then show it! The rest will follow naturally.”

  “How do you know so much about these things?” Annie stared at her in wonder. “And why are you bothering to tell me? I reckon you could have any man you want. You’re so pretty and all.”

  Bryony dismissed this with a rueful laugh and a wave of her hand. “The only reason I seem to know so much is that I went to a silly girl’s school all my life where learning how to attract and hold on to a man was one of the main topics of my education! That’s all my friends ever talked about, and every accomplishment we ever mastered, be it painting or embroidery or music, was geared toward that purpose.” She sighed. “We were expected to marry very attractive and wealthy husbands and spend all our time giving orders to servants and attending operas and balls! We were taught to be ornaments, pretty and accomplished in the things a woman is supposed to be accomplished in, so as to make a good impression on our husbands’ friends, but never to be taken seriously.”

  She shook her head. “What a lot of nonsense! You have no idea how glad I am to be away from all that. Here in Arizona I’m my own mistress, and I take care of myself. I work hard, and I’ve won the respect of the ranch hands who work for me. That’s much more important to me than all the society teas in St. Louis!”

  Annie was forced into a burst of laughter. It transformed her face, giving her clear hazel eyes a lively glow and softening her features. “Seems like you and me have had opposite lives,” she observed. “Yours has been filled with...” She searched for the right word.

  “Frivolity,” Bryony supplied immediately, and Annie grinned.

  “Yep, frivolity. And mine has been filled with work. After all these years, I don’t know if I could still learn all those things you want to teach me.”

  “I promise you, there’s nothing difficult to learn. All we’re going to do is get you some decent clothes, and teach you how to dress your hair more becomingly. And oh, yes, I’m going to teach you to dance.”

  “Dance!” Annie exclaimed. She watched in amazement as Bryony leapt up in excitement and began to pace rapidly about the room.

  “Yes, you must learn to dance if you’re going to attend my fiesta. Every man present will be begging for you to give them the honor!”

  “There’s only one man I’d like to dance with,” Annie answered soberly, but there was a gleam of hope in her eyes. “Do you really think I could learn? And... do you think Buck might ask me to stand up with him?”

  Bryony had been looking the other girl over appraisingly, and now she smiled confidently at her.

  “Annie, if he doesn’t pester you the whole night like a fly buzzing around a honey pot, then I’ll pack my bags and move back to St. Louis the very next morning. And let me tell you, that is something I have no intention of doing!”

  This speech was greeted by a wide smile, but almost immediately Annie’s face clouded with suspicion. “Why would you do all this?” she demanded in a low tone. “Why should Wesley Hill’s daughter want to help me?”

  Bryony returned to sit beside her on the sofa, her eyes meeting the other girl’s intent gaze with great earnestness. “Annie, I don’t believe that my father ever did you or anyone else a bit of harm. No, wait, let me finish,” she hurried on as the girl tried to interrupt.

  “I know that you and your father feel differently, and I’m sorry for it. I only hope that one day the truth will come out and you’ll see the error in your thinking. However, I don’t see the point in our discussing that. The only thing that matters is that I want to be your friend—and your father’s friend. You must trust me.”

  Slowly, Annie nodded. “I do trust you,” she replied almost dazedly. “I never had a mother or a sister, or even a woman-friend. I’d like to have one, though. I get powerful lonely sometimes with only Pa to talk to.”

  “Then we’ll talk to each other.” Bryony smiled. “We’ll have plenty of time for long chats once we start your dancing lessons, and begin sewing your party dress. Tell me, what fabric shall it be? Do you have a preference?”

  “Well, there’s a bolt of gingham that Pa brought me once from town,” Annie began doubtfully, but Bryony interrupted her firmly.

  “No, ma’am. No gingham dresses for you. This gown is going to be made of satin or silk. And we’ll go all the way to Tucson to buy the fabric if we have to. And the color? Rose, I think. With your hair and coloring, it will be absolutely gorgeous! Oh, Annie, wait and see! After you’ve worn this gown, you’ll be hard put to ever take it off! The night of the fiesta is going to change your entire life!”

  And after these excited words, the two of them put their heads together and began to plan in earnest. Bryony’s enthusiasm was contagious, and she soon swept Annie Blake up with her in a fever of anticipation.

  Samuel Blake, arriving home some time later, discovered them laughing helplessly on the sofa after Annie’s less than graceful attempt to follow Bryony’s dancing instructions, and he completed the day’s triumph by consenting to escort his daughter to the fiesta.

  Bryony felt both exhilarated and encouraged when she rode home beside Buck late that afternoon. She gave away no details to Buck about her visit with Annie—other than to say that Annie and her father had both agreed to attend the party.

  He looked surprised, but didn’t question her, evidently concluding that Bryony’s charms had worked on the Blakes as effectively as on everyone else she met.

  Bryony herself secretly pondered what his reaction might be when he saw Annie Blake decked out in the rose silk gown she would wear the night of the party, and her hair beautifully arranged in fashionable curls.

  How happy Annie will be when Buck notices her, Bryony thought. And notice her he will.

  As they neared the Circle H, some of her elation wore off, for the sight of her own impressive ranch house brought back the memory of her own problems.

  She sighed to herself as the horses instinctively quickened their pace toward home.

  Well, at least Annie and Buck had a chance for happiness. That was more than she expected for herself. She needed to somehow learn to live without the one man who haunted her thoughts—and her heart.

  She must learn somehow to forget him.

  But it was a gloomy prospect. She couldn’t help thinking, despite her spirited
words to Annie, that she might have been better off if she’d never left St. Louis. If she’d never come west at all.

  Then she never would have met Texas Jim Logan. She never would have known the torture of this forbidden love.

  Chapter Twenty

  It was the morning of June the eighteenth.

  Jim Logan stood before the tall oval mirror in the hotel bedroom, practicing his deadly ritual with the Colt as he did every morning. Today, though, his mind was not on his task. He handled the gun almost absently, as if he wasn’t even aware of the incredible speed with which he drew it from the low-slung holster at his hip. He reacted automatically, without the intense concentration that normally characterized his pistol practice.

  It had been a bad night. He’d dreamed again, the same damned dream that had been haunting him ever since that stormy evening on the mountain with Bryony Hill.

  And to make matters worse, he’d received another letter from Danny yesterday, a letter just like all the others.

  Hell! Why did the kid keep begging him to come home? Didn’t he understand how impossible that was? Didn’t he know what his older brother had become, and that it was too late now to ever go back, to pick up the ties from a life he’d cast aside so many years ago?

  For an instant, his father’s face swam into his mind’s eye, a harsh, strong face, tough and leathery as cowhide. That face was a grim reminder of the main reason why he could never return to his father’s cattle ranch—no, to Danny’s ranch, he corrected himself.

  He didn’t have the right to return and he never would.

  And yet—that dream. That damned dream! It was as clear to him now as the cheap painting on the wall beside the mirror. In the dream he was home again, in the huge, oaken mansion on the plains of Texas, where he’d been born. Spread before his gaze was the bustling cattle ranch, vast and thriving, teeming with wranglers and corrals and storehouses and cattle. He could see the handsome interior of the ranch house, the thick carpeting and fine furniture his mother had loved, the parlors and the sitting room, his father’s study, the immense dining room and the great, immaculate kitchen.