by Leah Atwood
“Me.” Her answer was the barest of whispers.
Not blinking an eye, Lyle grabbed the reins and handed them to her. “Hop on. You can take Lollygag and I’ll go saddle up Mirth. I’ll be right back.”
Slipping one foot into the stirrup, she mounted Lollygag, who despite her name, was a well-mannered, well-behaved mare who’d follow any command. Winnie’s stomach was in knots after the near brush with Lyle. The whole scenario would have been much more tolerable if she didn’t like him so much. Her emotions weren’t as blocked as off as she’d thought and hoped. Hazel was right- she did care for him and that scared her beyond reason.
After Tom, she’d locked her heart and threw away the key. She never imagined Lyle could find they key. She admired his skill with the cattle and horses, his dedication to his work. He was a man after her own heart in that regard. The way he cared about his help, especially Hazel, spoke to a compassionate side of him that softened her heart. Truth be told, she even admired the hint of humble arrogance he strutted around displaying. He was a man who’d seen success, but never forgot those who helped him get there. Unfortunately, for her cause to guard her heart, she’d yet to find a significant flaw in him beyond his irritating tendency to overprotect, which she grudgingly had to admit was endearing in its own right.
The sound of a horse’s hooves hitting the ground brought her out from her thoughts. “Where are we going?”
“A little place not too far away that I’ve always enjoyed. Come on.” He nudged Mirth’s flanks, sending her legs into motion.
Prodding Lollygag, Winnie followed, bringing the horse to a gallop. She took a deep breath, filling her lungs with the fresh air of a sort not found in Boston or its surrounding areas. There was no likeness to compare the exhilaration it brought, how alive it made her feel. Since returning to Wyoming, this was the first chance she’d had to ride for pleasure; she hadn’t realized just how much she missed it. Caught up in bliss, she almost missed Lyle slowing down Mirth.
They came to a stop at the head of a valley. Below her, an artist’s pallet of colors was spread before her eyes in the form of the season’s first wildflowers. Indian paintbrush, primrose, kitten tail and varieties she couldn’t yet identify. The blend of color created a beautiful, peaceful vision. At the bottom of the valley was a small steam, crystal clear and gently rippling. She had no idea something so pristine, so ethereal existed so close to the homestead.
“It’s beautiful.” She gazed in awe. Wildflowers at her parents' then Tom’s, ranch had been minimal, nothing ever in a display like this.
“My parents called it Lagniappe Valley. At least once a week, I come out here for quiet time before getting started on the day. The flowers usually aren’t out for another few weeks, but they came early this year. When I saw them this morning, I knew I wanted to bring you here.”
Winnie shifted, still in the saddle, surprised at the soulful side of Lyle. “What does lagniappe mean?” The odd word felt strange on her tongue.
“My mom was born in New Orleans and it’s a word she brought with her. It’s a small gift given by a merchant, a bonus. When they settled on this land, the wildflowers were in full bloom and Ma said this valley was their lagniappe of the claim.”
Lulled to a calm by the tranquil valley, Winnie dared broach personal conversation, taking Hazel’s advice to talk about something other than the ranch. “How did your mom end up here from New Orleans?”
“My dad was a union soldier and spent some time at Fort Pike toward the end of the War Between the States. My ma was the daughter of a wealthy plantation owner. Their relationship was met with blatant disapproval, even going so far as to threaten their lives. They never spoke much of that time, but I know it came down to dissolving their union or running away. The choice was more difficult for my ma, as it meant leaving behind her entire family and life. Ultimately, she chose love and through a series of events they settled here.”
“Did she ever regret her decision?”
“Not that I’m aware. Ma was a firm believer that love and faith would see you through any obstacles.”
“She must have been a strong woman.”
“You’re a strong woman also.”
Winnie blinked in surprise, his words flooding her with unexpected emotion. Lyle brought his mount closer to hers so they were mere inches apart. He reached over and took her hand in his, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I believe it also…about love and faith.”
The conversation was becoming too personal, with the way Lyle stared at her, his eyes boring into her as if he could see into her soul. A tickle fell to her throat and she coughed, clearing it. “Our hour is almost up.”
This brief distraction had turned into a firebrand she was ill-equipped to handle. Releasing her hand from his, she nudged Lollygag and took off, not looking back. Would Lyle still think she was strong if he knew how easily he could crush her heart? She prodded Lollygag into a faster gait, urging her to put distance between them and Lyle. For every impediment she’d encountered in life, she’d face it head-on. Why couldn’t she do the same now?
An unrestrained groan bubbled from her throat when she neared the house and saw a wagon parked in front of the porch. The ostentatious contraption belonged to the mayor’s wife, Nancy Radcliffe. Nancy was a force of nature, and not the beautiful, serene fresh blanket of snow type. Ever since Winnie’s arrival, the mayor’s wife had made it her personal obligation to inform Winnie of a proper wife’s role in society, especially when she was married to a prominent citizen such as Lyle. To date, Winnie had plastered on a smile and obligingly listened to her while inwardly fighting for control not to roll her eyes, but today she was in no mood for niceties.
Untacking Lollygag, she contemplated dallying in hopes the condescending woman would tire of waiting and leave. The mare nuzzled her shoulder, offering its own brand of support. The right side of her mouth went up in a half smile amused that even the horse knew what awaited Winnie inside the house.
“Best get it done and over with,” she grumbled. She undid the plain ribbon holding back her hair and smoothed the strands that escaped before tying it again.
“Looks like we have a visitor,” a deep voice commented. Lyle had returned, acting like nothing unusual had happened at the valley, like she hadn’t run away from his subtle offer.
“Lucky us.”.
A smirk crossed his face. “Want me to shoo her away?”
“She’s not that bad.” It was a lie, but she took a deep breath and went to face the storm.
Nancy was sitting in the parlor, sipping tea out of a dainty cup made of china with delicate flowers painted on the sides. Upon Winnie’s entrance, she set her tea down, giving Winnie an appraising once-over, her eyes clouding with disapproval at Winnie’s choice of attire. “Winifred darling, I was just about to give up hope of speaking with you today.”
I could only be so lucky, Winnie thought to herself. “I’m sorry to keep you waiting. What brings you do the Bar G today?”
“I’m just so excited to announce that Mr. Radcliffe has decided to host a party, celebrating his re-election as Mayor. Since Lyle is such a valued citizen of Pine Prairie, I wanted to personally invite both of you.”
Winnie tried hard not to laugh. Yes, Mayor Radcliffe had been re-elected, but he’d had no opponents. “I’m sure it will be a grand festivity. Have you set a date?”
“A week from Saturday.”
“I’ll speak with my husband and make the arrangements. I’m sure he will want to attend.”
“Now, I know it’s rather a short notice, and since it will be a formal celebration, I don’t want you to worry about finding a suitable dress. I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve taken the liberty of having my seamstress make one for you.”
Of all the low-down, sneaky, conniving plans. Taken aback, Winnie had no words. It was one thing for Nancy Radcliffe to voice her opinions, but to be so presumptuous…it boiled her blood. “I have several dresses of my own to choose from but thank you for y
our kindness,” she managed to choke out through a lump of fury.
Taking a step back, Nancy was visibly shocked. Whether from the refusal of her manipulative gesture or the admission that Winnie, in fact, did own dresses was unknown. Collecting her wits, Nancy spoke again. “I just don’t want you to feel out of place, dear. Everyone will be dressed to the nines and I only wanted you to feel welcome and a part of the community.”
“Mrs. Radcliffe,” Winnie began, resorting to formal address. “My dresses were made from the latest styles in Boston, designed by the best fashion houses in Paris. I assure you, the only reason I may feel out of place due to my attire is because everyone else’s styles will be several seasons behind that of mine.”
Nancy’s face turned bright red, resembling that of a ripe summer tomato. “You manners match the crudeness of your clothing.”
“Actually, Mrs. Radcliffe, it’s your manners that are lacking.” Lyle came into the room and slid his arm around Winnie’s waist. “No one comes into my home and insults my family. My wife will wear a dress of her choosing to the party if we decide to attend.”
“Why…I…I… Oh, never mind,” Nancy huffed and ran out the door, leaving behind the package containing the dress.
With Nancy barely out the door, Winnie took two steps to the right, escaping Lyle’s touch and glared at him. “I didn’t need you to defend me. I was handling her on my own.”
Shocked, Lyle’s eyes widened before his features tautened, his frustration evident. “I have no doubt your surly attitude could match that of Nancy Radcliffe’s, but the point is you are my wife, whether you choose to acknowledge it or not. And where I come from, a husband does not tolerate anyone disrespecting his wife, especially not in his own home.”
“I’m not surly,” Winnie’s defenses rose.
“A porcupine is less prickly than you when I try to make any effort at being a husband to you. For a brief time this morning, by the valley, I thought maybe things were beginning to change.”
His comparison stung. “I never asked you to be a husband,” she shot back.
“Actually, when you answered my advertisement for a bride you initiated a request for me to be your husband. Then you boarded the train, traveled to Wyoming and took vows in front of the town, and more importantly, God. So yes, I think you did ask me to be a husband.” His voice never rose, instead staying an eerie calm reminding her of the stillness right before a hurricane had stormed the east one summer.
“I only wished to find a way back to Wyoming, working on a ranch,” she hissed, feeling immediate regret when she saw the pain she inflicted flash across Lyle’s face.
“Then you should have hired on as another hand, not my wife,” he responded quietly, his voice low and hardly audible. Turning on a heel, he gave her a final sad look and walked way, his back rigid.
He was about to leave the house, his hand was on the door when he abruptly stopped. Without a word, he turned, marched toward her, stopping directly in front of her. Cupping her face with his large masculine hands, he leaned his head down and kissed her directly on the lips. Still silent, he turned back away and fumed out of the house without a backward glance.
With her legs stunned into a stationary position, she reached up and traced the spot where Lyle had kissed her. In that split second, he’d set aside his anger and showed her a tenderness that warmed her body and soul. Coming to terms with her treacherous behavior and words, she burst into tears, a luxury she hadn’t afforded herself since her parents died. The time had come to offer him an explanation and set the truth free.
Chapter Five
A substantial indent was left in the ground from where Lyle kicked his boot in the dust. There’d been many situations in his life in which his patience had been tested, but none of being a husband to wife, come to find out, who had no desire to be a wife. For nearly a month, he’d tried to give her space while wooing her with a subtle courtship. He’d been rebuffed at every turn, only to discover it was hopeless. The irony wasn’t lost on him. All his adult life woman had pursued him, but none had held his interest; now that he’d found someone, she wanted nothing to do with him beyond working together. His future looked dim. A loveless marriage wasn’t what he’d hoped for.
Nothing is hopeless where faith and love exist.
His mother’s word came to the forefront of his memory. Looking heavenward, he pondered what advice his mother would bestow if she were still on this earth.
It’s only loveless if neither one possesses love.
The words came to him from nowhere but gave him the peace he sought. Winnie might not love him, but he loved her and that would have to be enough for now. Even coming to that conclusion, it didn’t lessen that stabbing pain he’d felt. He’d heard of people being heartbroken over failed romances before, but he never knew such a thing actually existed, especially not for men like him.
“Lyle?” At the uncertain call of his name, he turned around to see Winnie standing at the edge of the porch’s steps. Her shaky voice was uncharacteristically meek and her face a mess of red blotches.
“Yes?”
“Can we talk?”
“Okay.” His feet remained planted where they were.
“Over here, please?”
An obdurate part of him wanted to remain where he was, making things more difficult for her, but the man in love won. Three strides later he stood in front of her, arms to his side in a non-threatening pose. His hands itched to reach out and wipe the tears that pooled from the corner of her left eye. Staying angry was near impossible when he saw how distraught she was.
“I owe you an apology.”
He had to admire that she didn’t flinch in acknowledging her wrongdoing. “For deceiving me into marriage or biting off my head for standing up for you?”
“Both.”
“Why’d you do it, Winnie? Why not just seek out employment as a ranch hand? If you didn’t want to marry, there were other options.”
“Would you have hired a female?”
Lyle paused to think about his answer, coming to the conclusion he didn’t know what he would have done. “I don’t know, but that would have been preferable to making a lifelong commitment to someone who didn’t have the fortitude to be upfront in her own intentions.”
“I’m sorry. Truly I am. I’ve behaved despicably and I don’t blame you if you want to send me back to Boston. But before you make a decision, please, hear me out, let me explain,” she pleaded earnestly.
“Regardless of what happens between us, I would never send you back. For better or worse, we are married. Whatever the future holds for us, however, we decide to handle this, it will be together. I don’t believe in divorce.” If he wasn’t mistaken, he saw an expression of relief extend over her. Was it because she did harbor some feelings toward him? Or was it only because he’d told her she’d remain on the Bar G.
“What I said inside—it’s not completely true.”
“Which part?”
“Only wanting to work on a ranch.”
He released the breath he’d been holding. “Then what do you want?”
“There are some things about my first marriage that you should know. They’ll help explain why I am how I am.”
Raking his hand through his hair, he realized his hat still sat on a table inside the house. Winnie’s emotional discomfort was obvious to him, but she seemed intent to plow through with the remainder of her story. “Let’s go inside where there’s some privacy.” Not waiting, he went inside, found the lemonade inside the icebox and poured a glass for each of them. He pulled out a chair, gesturing for her to sit before taking a seat opposite of her.
She took a sip of her drink before beginning. “My parents died when I was only fifteen. I was too young to be on my own but too young to marry. I had no family that anyone knew of, and it wasn’t until just before my husband passed that I discovered I had an aunt who lived in Boston. There was no one to take me in and I was left on my own, penniless. The spread my parents
ran was a small operation and there was no money after their debts were paid.”
Nodding his encouragement, Lyle gently prodded her. “Where did you go?”
Her face flamed, but she didn’t look away. “A saloon.”
Lyle tried to hide his shock, forcing himself to withhold any judgment until he heard the complete story.
“Shel Tynley was the owner. He gave me a job cleaning tables and washing dishes.”
Resisting the urge to slam his fist on the table, Lyle tensed. He didn’t want to hear the rest of the story. He’d heard stories of Shel, not a single one good and every last one repulsive. He was searching for a delicate way to ask what happened next when Winnie continued.
“I’d been there a week when Tom McArthur came in one evening. He’d been out to my parents’ place a few times and he was a nice enough man, but even older than my pa. When he saw me working there, he exploded in a rampage. I didn’t know at the time, but Shel also owned the brothel across the street and would hire girls in similar situations as mine. He’d start them out in the saloon before moving them to the even seedier side of his business. That night, Tom took me home with him and put me up in his spare room- told me I’d have a place to live for as long as I wanted.”
“How’d you end up married then?”
Inhaling deeply, Winnie looked away, briefly distracted by her own memories. “Word got out that I was staying with him. According to the biddies in town, it was inappropriate because I was on the verge of marrying age and Tom was a single man. I didn’t understand because there was nothing uncouth between us. When no one else was willing to help, he stepped in and rescued me. I was going to leave, but he wouldn’t hear of it. On a bitter cold December afternoon, we were married.”
Lyle still wasn’t sure how that affected her marriage, except being concerned for Winnie’s wellbeing. “Did he treat you well?” he asked, trying to piece it all together.
“Nothing changed for us—it was a marriage in name only, to preserve my reputation. For four years, I helped out on the ranch and he passed down all his wisdom to me, allowing me to do that tasks my father never permitted because I was a girl. I loved the work. It suited me.”