When she didn't get an answer on the second bong of the bell, Prudence followed the brick walkway around to the back to check Sunny's gardens. Sure enough, she found Sunny elbow-deep in peat moss. Her hair was not the perfectly coiffured style of yesterday, but was loose and springy, and she was singing a sweet lullaby to beds of pansies and tulips.
"Well, bless my soul," she said, when Pru caught her eye. "It's the newlyweds."
"Make that newly-wed," Pru corrected. "Brice is back at the Half-Circle playing with his cows. Today I think it's Follow the Leader." She stroked her chin. "Actually, right about now he's probably walking to the Half-Circle."
Sunny raised one eyebrow. "Walking? From where?"
Prudence shrugged. "From the old Dillard place. I sort of borrowed his truck."
Sunny let loose a carefree giggle, then wiped her arms and hands on a towel. "Sounds interesting. Let's go on inside and have some tea, and you can tell me about it."
"Any chance of having a side order of eggs, bacon and toast with that?" So much for hinting.
Sunny smiled. "Brice isn't feeding you? No wonder you snatched his truck out from under him." She turned toward the back door of the ranch, and Prudence fell into step beside her as the woman continued. "Since you're wearing the same clothes you had on when you left here to bail out your kin yesterday, I take it your wedding night was a mite … rocky?"
"As the Grand Canyon."
Sunny reached for the doorknob, then paused and faced Prudence. "Fiddlesticks. I saw how he kissed you and how you kissed him right back, after the judge pronounced you husband and wife."
Prudence felt her stomach flip at the thought. It did a double flip when she thought of Brice kissing her this morning.
Sunny grinned. "From the look on your face right now, I'd say your wedding night was more Appalachian Mountains than Grand Canyon." They entered the kitchen, and after washing her hands, Sunny took eggs and bacon from the fridge. "You can build roads through the Appalachians, you know. I'll cook—you sit down and think about road building."
Prudence parked herself in a ladder-back chair and propped her elbow on the oak table, resting her chin in her palm. She watched Sunny start up the bacon, then crack eggs. The heavenly aroma of an old-fashioned, artery-clogging breakfast soon filled the room. It was a great room, the perfect kitchen. She'd die for a kitchen like this.
"Brice and I don't want to build roads. All we want is for your husband to realize he's made a big mistake getting us married—the feud's worse now than ever. Then we can all go back to the way things were before he got his lame-brained idea."
Sunny turned the bacon, then put bread in the toaster. "Well, dear, you're going to have a mighty long wait. Admitting he's wrong isn't one of the judge's strong suits. Maybe you and Brice should concentrate on ending the feud, instead."
Prudence felt her head swim. "That's never going to happen. We'd have to undo seventy years of bickering. It's impossible."
"The longest journey starts with one step, and that step was getting a McCormack and Randolph hitched. Think about it. All you have to do now is get the McCormacks and Randolphs to agree on just one little thing at a time. Then pretty soon they'll be agreeing on everything. The feud will end faster that way than waiting for the judge to change that stubborn mind of his."
Sunny slid the eggs from the skillet onto a plate, snatched the toast and added the bacon. She placed the food on the table.
Prudence dug into the eggs, swallowed a mouthful, forced herself to slow down so she wouldn't gulp everything, then said, "But what kind of stuff would a McCormack and Randolph ever agree on? When the sun comes up? When it sets? That's about all they'd ever see eye-to-eye on."
Sunny poured two cups of tea, set out a plate of sugar cookies. She claimed a chair on the other side of the big oak table. "Seems to me some sort of cause might work. Give people a common goal and bingo—" Sunny snapped her fingers "—Randolphs and McCormacks will come together faster than two gossips on a summer night. Finding the right cause is the trick. No one's come up with that yet. I started the garden club for that very reason, and didn't have much luck at all. Do you know the Randolphs and McCormacks spent two whole meetings arguing over the color of yellow daffodils?"
"Sounds like you want to see this feud end every bit as much as I do." Prudence bit into the best toast she'd ever eaten.
"Oh, my stars, yes." Sunny's eyes sparkled. "When the judge retires, he's promised me a trip to England. I hear tell the gardens there are plumb delightful. For the past five years the judge has said we're going, and for the past five years this ongoing rhubarb's gotten worse and worse. The judge is afraid to leave, afraid what will happen to Serenity while he's gone. If this feud doesn't end soon, the judge and I will be too decrepit to go anywhere except an old folks home."
"I don't think you or the judge will ever be decrepit. Maybe if you tell him the marriage has done more harm than good it would help. Tell him that just this morning Dad and Granddad Wes showed up at the house, and Brice and I nearly had World War Three in the living room."
Sunny's eyes widened. "We? You and Brice—a Randolph and a McCormack—have a house? Where you live together?" A little smile tugged at Sunny's lips as she absently selected a sugar cookie. She nibbled the edges. "Hmm, imagine that. You have a house."
"It's not exactly a house, Sunny. More like a hovel. It's the old Dillard place' remember?" Prudence eyed the cookies, wondering if Sunny had any chocolate-chip ones stashed somewhere. "Brice deeded it to me for as long as we're married. It was a rotten trick to get me out to the Half-Circle."
Sunny arched her eyebrows. "Your house, you say? On the Half-Circle. My, my, my. This gets better all the time." Sunny drummed her fingers on the pine tabletop. "You own the house, Brice owns the land. Can't remember a McCormack and Randolph ever being this chummy before."
"We're not 'chummy.'" Most of the time we're not chummy, her conscience amended. "We don't even trust each other. Don't even like each other." Usually.
As if she hadn't heard a word, Sunny stared off into space, muttering, "This is mighty unusual, mighty unusual, indeed." Her fingers continued their drumming.
Suddenly, she hopped up and smacked the tabletop with the flat of her hand, making Prudence jump in her seat. "Time's a wastin', girl. We've got to build on this. There's work to be done."
"Huh? Build on what—?"
Sunny snatched cups and plates off the table in one swift movement and took them to the sink.
"But … but my breakfast?" Prudence watched her food go into the garbage disposal. Was life ever fair?
"English gardens are at their perkiest in June, so that doesn't give us much time to set things to rights in Serenity."
"There's always next year, Sunny. Or even the year after that. English gardens have been around for a really long time."
"Horsefeathers, I want to go this year. We gotta get a move on."
"But the feud's been going on for seventy years, how can we—"
"First off," Sunny interrupted, ignoring all protests, "you've got to fix up that house of yours so both families think this marriage is going to last till you and Brice drop dead. Everyone will see that McCormacks and Randolphs can work together. It's a mighty good place to start."
Pru wagged her head. "Brice and I can't do anything together. How are we going to fix up a house? We fight, like … McCormacks and Randolphs."
"Just pretend to get along." Sunny narrowed her eyes and stared at Prudence. "You want this feud to end, too, don't you? Make the Dillard place a kind of monument to peace and goodwill. Like the U.N. Then think of some way to get the rest of your kin together. Like … like a barn raising."
"Sunny, Randolphs don't build barns. A little porch furniture now and then, but no barns."
"Well, you and Brice are sure to come up with something. Now, go on down the hall and wash up quick-like. Borrow one of my sweaters if you want. We've got to get that house in working order—and the sooner the better."
> Pru watched the cookies being dumped back into a ceramic jar that looked like a giant sunflower. She didn't even get one cookie crumb. "Sunny, listen to me. You're not getting the whole picture, here. The Dillard place has no heat, no running water, no phone. There's stuff piled in boxes. The roof leaks, for heaven's sake." Prudence spread her hands wide. "It's utterly hopeless."
Sunny looked her right in the eye. "Nothing in this whole wide world is hopeless, dear. Not ending this here feud and certainly not ending my expectations of getting to England this year. My brother Ralph is a plumber. He can get your hot water and other plumbing needs going lickety-split. The hardware store always has names of people who can check out the furnace, and one phone call should get the electricity working. The judge has friends all over town who can help us out. You'll see—once you have the comforts of home, the rest will fall into place." Her eyes were as bright as sun reflecting off a lake. "But do it quick. I've got to make plane reservations. Mercy, we'll have to get passports. And new luggage. I like the suitcases with those little wheels on the bottom. And cameras and film, lots of film."
Prudence headed for the bathroom to make herself presentable. Coming here had been a huge mistake. She should have stayed back at the ranch, eaten powdered eggs and argued with Brice, because now things were worse than before. She couldn't just wait around till the judge came to his senses and let her and Brice out of the damnable marriage. She and Brice were going to have to come up with some way to end the feud themselves, or Sunny and the judge would never make it to England.
Of course, that wasn't the only reason. If Sunny was right, the judge would never admit the marriage was a bad idea, and she and Brice could be trapped together for a really long time.
That was one thing she didn't want to happen. The constant fighting would be awful. And there was the problem of Brice, the man. She sure couldn't resist Brice on a physical level for a really long time. The kiss this morning proved that. But she also couldn't get involved with a man who tricked her, and whom she didn't trust and who owed his allegiance to his family. The feud had to end—that was the only solution.
Maybe this house idea would work out. Brice wanted to stay there, thought it was the best idea since the wheel. Like Sunny said, it would create the impression that she and Brice were a happily married couple, and the Randolphs and McCormacks could work together in harmony. It was a start. She and Brice could build on it. Spread the word that this marriage was the best thing ever. Maybe more Randolphs and McCormacks would start talking and getting together, like the judge said. It was worth a try.
* * *
Brice swiped his Resistol from his head and ran his shirt sleeve over his dust-smeared face. Humidity hung heavy in the air as a bank of clouds collected on the horizon. Bringing in new stock was always hard work. They had to be fed and watered, and they were skittish as hell, especially with a storm heading this way.
Derek slapped Brice on the back. "Some fine-looking cows there. You always did know how to pick 'em."
"They'll do. We can run 'em over to the Dillard place tomorrow. No sense in moving them in nasty weather."
"Speaking of the Dillard place—" Derek arched his brows "—how is Prudence Randolph McCormack this morning?" Derek nudged Brice in a man-to-man way.
"Okay." Brice walked faster, and Derek kept pace. All day Brice had gotten the third-degree about Pru. He'd kept his responses to one-syllable words or grunts. He was tired of questions, and he was damn tired of grunting.
"Heard you walked on over here this morning," Derek continued. "Trouble in paradise?"
"Nope." Brice opened the door to Derek's four-by-four, as Derek asked, "Going somewhere?"
"Yep." He brought the truck to life, then took off down the road, with Derek yelling that this was his truck, and something about Brice being of questionable parentage for taking it.
Too bad. Derek would get his truck back when Brice got his back. Besides, Derek could borrow Mamma's truck or one of the cousins' vehicles if he had the need. How could Pru have left Brice stranded? How could she not tell him where she was going? How could she have the softest lips, silkiest hair and sexiest little body, and be conniving enough to fast-shuffle him out of the Dillard house?
Clouds cut the sunlight in half and thunder echoed in the distant hills as he pulled Derek's pickup next to his own. Well, well. The troublemaker was back.
Brice stomped up what was left of the front steps of the house and yanked open the door. "Prudence!" They needed to talk, right now. "Pru?" He searched the living room, kitchen, mudroom and storage room. They needed to set some ground rules. "Prudence?" He went upstairs. He and Pru needed to get a few things straight if they were going to live together, like where in blue blazes that would be.
He searched the front bedroom, then went into the back one. And Pru needed to know his truck was his truck, and that if she wanted one, she could buy one of her very—
Brice stopped dead at a thumping noise at the window. He went there and looked outside as a leather shoe hit the glass with a loud thawmp, making him jump back. "What the—?"
Peering outside again, Brice saw two khaki-covered legs dangling from the roof. One foot was bare, one had on a familiar leather shoe, and both looked as if they were scrambling to get a toehold on a ladder—except there wasn't a ladder in sight.
* * *
Chapter 6
« ^ »
Brice's heart stopped. Panic gripped his chest. He threw open the window and got a bare foot in the nose, knocking his hat clean off his head. "Prudence, is that you?"
"Brice!"
The legs flailed again, and Brice stepped back.
"Get me down!"
"I can't get you from in here. I can't reach you. The overhang's too far out. What the hell are you doing up there?"
"Falling?"
"Hold on. I'm coming." Brice tore for the steps, the clatter of his boots on wood echoing through the dark rooms. He ran out the back door, then looked up and called, "Where's the ladder?" He figured she was about fifteen feet off the ground.
"In front. I—" Pru's words died in her throat as the gutter she was holding on to began to pull away from the roof with a sickening creak. "Brice!" Her legs gyrated as she kicked the air.
"Hold still! You'll make things worse."
She looked down at him for a split second, her matter-of-fact lawyer face well in place. "Things could be worse?" The gutter gave way another inch, and her eyes widened.
"There's no time to get the ladder. I'll catch you."
"Yeah, right. Get the ladder."
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
"You think I stole your truck and house. You're a McCormack. Want me to go on here?"
"Pru, you can trust me." The gutter pulled again, this time loosening the entire section attached to the roof. He held out his arms. "It won't hold much longer!"
"But—"
"Drop, dammit! Now! You've got to trust me, Pru."
She looked up at the gutter, down to Brice, back to the gutter. Then she let go, falling neatly into his arms and sending them both tumbling backward onto the ground, and down a hill. She was on top of him, he on top of her, she back on him. They rolled over the grass, rocks and sticks, then up against a tree, his back smacking against the trunk, knocking the wind right out of him.
They lay there for a second, him sandwiched between the tree and Pru, gasping for air, before he heard her say, "Damn!"
Pru never said "damn." Since her face was pressed to his shoulder, he felt her breath coming in quick pants. "You okay?"
"Lost my other shoe. They were Italian."
Brice exhaled a lungful of air in one long swoosh of relief. "Yeah, ain't life a bitch. You all right or not?"
When she didn't answer for a few moments, he tucked his finger under her chin and tipped her face to his. Her eyes were blue-black, covering half her face. She bit her bottom lip, and he felt her tremble. One lonely tear trickled down her left cheek.
; Dear lord! He hadn't been ready for that tear. If she'd yelled at the gutter, called it disreputable names or maybe thrown a rock at the house, or even him for getting her out here in the first place—that he'd have been ready for. But not the tear.
Pru was terrified, and he realized with a start that he absolutely hated the thought of her being terrified about anything. All her smart-ass cracks and jokes were for show—just bluster. Another one of those Randolph-facing-a-McCormack episodes. He never imagined Pru was so good at covering up what she really felt.
Not that she was the only one who did that sort of thing. Underneath all his joking, he'd been scared half to death, too. He could have dropped her. She could have been seriously hurt. What if he hadn't been here at all? Then he could have lost Pru … forever.
His stomach roiled as that unexpected thought embedded itself in his brain. A slice of cold-blooded fear shot clear through him. Until this very minute, he hadn't appreciated how much he never wanted to be without Pru in his life.
Thunder rumbled long and deep overhead. It shook the earth beneath them, charged the atmosphere and whipped gentle breezes into gusting winds. Right now, he didn't give two hoots in Hades what Pru's last name was, or his, either. The feud that was older than him and Pru put together didn't matter a lick. The only thing he cared about this minute was Pru, that she was safe and in his arms, so he kissed her … because he needed to reaffirm the fact that she was okay more than he needed to breathe.
Pru pulled in a quick breath of surprise, her eyes turning blue as the star-studded sky at midnight on the wide open plain. She tasted warm, sweet and giving, and when he took his lips from hers, her mouth remain parted, inviting his return. Desire coursed hot in his veins. His fingers shook, as much from the fear of losing her as the realization of what was happening between them. He brushed her hair from her forehead and kissed her there. His heart raced. Passion tensed every muscle, and when she wound her arms around his neck and kissed him back, he thought he'd died and gone straight to heaven.
COURT-APPOINTED MARRIAGE Page 8