by Dorothy Love
“Will they do that?”
“I think so, eventually. Since all the fires up north last fall, timber isn’t as plentiful there. Prices are up. And Chicago is still rebuilding. Those investors want my mill so they can cash in on the increased demand. They won’t get it unless they’re willing to guarantee that the coloreds won’t be thrown off the land.”
“But I thought the current owner wouldn’t sell.”
“I believe that problem has been resolved.” Briefly, he told her about his last conversation with Bea Goldston.
Ada stared up at him, stunned. “Bea owns Two Creeks?”
He grinned. “Finding that out was the shock of the ages. My lawyers are talking to hers. I think they’ll work it out.”
“For your sake I’m glad that she’s willing to make a deal, but I don’t understand why she’d do anything to benefit those sharecroppers. She’s the one who said their presence was holding the town back.”
He shrugged. “She loves Hickory Ridge more than she hates them. And if I know Bea, she’s counting on coming back one day, a heroine for having made such a sacrifice.” He shook his head. “She’ll probably run for mayor.”
“If anyone would try it, Bea would.”
“In any case, Hickory Ridge doesn’t need any more unrest. We had plenty of that when Brownlow was governor. It’s time to move forward.”
Ada watched Wyatt as he drove along, one hand resting loosely on his knee, the sunlight stippling his face. Though she’d tried to move forward, she still felt stuck in her own sad past. But Wyatt had learned to leave yesterday alone. With him, everything was always about the future.
“The papers say good cropland is renting for up to six dollars an acre these days,” she went on. “If Bea does sell that land, she can ask top dollar for it.”
Wyatt grinned. “Why, Ada! If you ever get tired of making hats, you can be a land agent.”
When they reached the church, Wyatt tethered Smoky in the yard. Ada crossed the churchyard and ran her fingers over Lillian’s new marble headstone. The reality of Lillian’s death assailed her all over again. She blinked back tears.
Wyatt stepped up beside her and put an arm around her waist. “Think she’d like it? It isn’t too ostentatious? I couldn’t decide between angels and flowers, so I got both.”
Ada smiled. “Lillian wasn’t exactly a shrinking violet. I’m sure she’d love it—especially the inscription.” The familiar words from Lillian’s favorite hymn were chiseled beneath her name: “My Shepherd Will Supply My Need.”
Wyatt studied it for a moment and then turned away. “Let’s go.”
They unloaded the rig and headed along the path to the river, then followed an overgrown trail to the waterfall. Wyatt spread their blanket in a mossy clearing, and they sat down, their backs to the distant mountain. The first of the wildflowers were just blooming; the hillsides were carpeted with splashes of pink and blue and the shimmering white of the dogwoods. Water tumbled over gray boulders and splashed into the cold green river below, sending up a fine mist that glittered in the sunlight.
Opening their basket, Wyatt tore off a chunk of bread, buttered it, and handed it to Ada. She chewed with relish and licked a fleck of butter off her fingers. “I’m glad you brought me here. It’s so beautiful. Like a secret paradise.”
He nodded. “It’s been one of my favorite spots since I was a boy.”
She poured a glass of lemonade for each of them, then sat back, inhaling the clean spring air. “It sure is a fine day for a picnic.”
Wyatt brushed bread crumbs off his hands. “And a fine day to talk about our future.”
No. Not now. Not today. I’m not ready.
Ada set down her glass. She started to speak, but he stopped her with a kiss to her forehead, his breath warm on her skin. “Please, Ada. I’ve been thinking about this ever since I got back from Chicago, and I want to get it out.”
“All right.” She clasped her hands and waited.
“As soon as I can settle things here, I’m headed for Texas.”
Tears blurred her eyes. “I know.”
“A year ago I would have felt just fine about going back home alone, setting up in a little cabin on my own land. Fact is, I would have preferred it. Ranching is hard work—long hours, always something that needs doing. It didn’t seem right to ask someone to share that. But now I can’t imagine living anywhere without you.” He tipped her face up and looked into her eyes. “For so much of my life I felt as if everything was matter of chance. Now I know better. We were put here to find each other. You know that as well as I do.”
She looked into his beloved face, too overcome with love and dread to forestall the words she knew were coming next.
“I’ve been waiting for your answer since Christmas. I know you’ve had a lot on your mind, and maybe you still have doubts about living someplace where there are more cows than people. But I have to know.” He brushed her lips with his. “My dearest friend, will you marry me?”
She brushed away the tears forming at the corners of her eyes. “You’ve been more patient with me than I deserve. And I would love more than anything to say yes.”
“Well then?”
She couldn’t meet his hopeful gaze. She looked past his shoulder to a patch of wildflowers nodding in the breeze.
“I don’t understand.” He took her hand. “What’s bothering you, my love?”
“I can’t—” She strove to discipline her voice, to take control of her emotions.
“If it’s the hat business that’s got you worried, I’ll buy you a shop to rival Waterfield and Walker. Or I’ll build you one. Fort Worth is growing so fast, there’s sure to be plenty of ladies needing fancy hats.” He laced his fingers through hers. “The most important thing is that we’re together.”
Ada finally found her voice. “That’s the difference between you and me. You don’t worry about the what-ifs. But I do. What if I disappointed you? What if you wake up one morning and realize that you don’t love me after all?”
He shook his head. “That will never happen.”
“It might. And then what? I couldn’t bear it if you stopped loving me.”
Wyatt gripped her shoulders. “Look at me.”
She looked into his sea-blue eyes. All she saw reflected there was honesty. And love.
“I’m not Edward,” he said, his expression fierce. “I won’t leave. I love you.”
“I know.” It came out as a whisper.
He released her. “You think you’re the only one taking a risk? What if you take one look at Texas and decide to get the next train back to Boston? What if you start resenting me for taking you to edge of earth? Don’t you think it would kill me if you up and left?”
“Wyatt, please. It isn’t only about—”
“Listen. Life is full of risks. But if you try to build a fence around all your fears, you’ll shut out joy too.”
She couldn’t bear the raw emotions playing over his face. She scrambled to her feet and ran along the slippery trail, painful sobs catching in her throat.
Wyatt quickly overtook her and turned her around. “I thought your plan was always to leave Hickory Ridge. Now that I’m offering you that chance, you keep throwing out obstacles.”
“That’s what I’m trying to tell you. It isn’t only about me and what I want. I have Sophie to consider.”
That stopped him—for a second. “Sophie?”
“She’s come so far. She reads as well as I do. Her handwriting is a hundred percent better. And she’s talented with needle and thread. I can’t abandon her now.”
Wyatt cocked one hip and pushed his Stetson to the back of his head. “Mercy, darlin’, but you drive a hard bargain. Just what do you have in mind? A boarding school back east, maybe?”
Ada plucked a sprig of wild blooms and held it to her nose. “I don’t want to push her into some other cold institution. I’ve been thinking that when I decide my own future, I’ll take her with me.”
“You mean adopt her?”
“I don’t know what the laws are down here. But it isn’t as if Mrs. Lowell will go to any trouble to place her elsewhere.”
Wyatt let out an exasperated sigh. “All right, then. We’ll take her with us.”
Ada studied him. “But you don’t want to. Not really.”
“Raising a child is a big responsibility.”
She tossed the flower away. “But you’ve often said you wanted sons and daughters. Just the other night you said—”
“That’s different.”
“Because Sophie is a mulatto.” She felt a jolt of disappointment. She’d never thought Wyatt would hold Sophie’s background against her. Maybe she’d been wrong about him after all.
“That isn’t fair, Ada. You know me better than that. But I’ve always thought our children would be of our blood. Our love. Maybe that’s selfish of me, but I won’t lie to you about how I feel.”
Ada looked up at him, tears shimmering in her eyes. Oh, what she wouldn’t give to have everything be different!
“But look,” he added. “I’m not saying I’m totally against the idea. I never thought of it before, that’s all. I have to get used to it. We could—”
“Wyatt, I can’t marry you.” She blurted it out, so heartbroken she could barely form the words. “As much as I love you, and as hard as it is to say it, I . . . can’t. And I won’t keep you guessing, wondering whether I’ll change my mind. It wouldn’t be fair.”
He went completely still. His blue eyes were so dark they appeared black. “I see.”
Above the distant rush of the waterfall, a robin sang. They stood face-to-face, inches away, and a thousand miles apart.
“I’m so sorry,” Ada whispered.
For several minutes he stared out at the greening mountains. Nothing moved. Insects ticked in the grasses beside the river. “What if I stay?”
She gaped at him. “What are you saying?”
“You heard me. What if I keep the mill? Forget about Texas. Adopt Sophie. What then?”
She was stunned. She’d never imagined such devotion even existed. “You love me that much? To give up everything you’ve ever wanted?”
“Yes, darlin’. May the saints help me, I do.”
Fresh tears rolled down her face. “Oh, I hate this! And I hate that still I must say no. Not because I don’t love you, but because I do!”
He frowned. “Come again?”
“From the first day we met, you’ve talked about that ranch. If I made you give it up, sooner or later you’d hate me for it.”
“No, I wouldn’t—”
“You would! Maybe you wouldn’t want to, but you couldn’t help it. You wouldn’t be the same man if I forced you to stay.” She felt as if her heart had actually shattered into a million little pieces. She put her face in her hands and sobbed.
His arms came around her. She clung to him and cried, weak with grief and regret. She hated that she was so full of mistrust and doubt. But she couldn’t force herself to feel differently and she couldn’t ask Wyatt to wait until she did.
Wyatt held her and let her cry until all her tears were spent. She leaned against him feeling numb and hollowed out. Finally she pulled away from him and dried her eyes. “I’ll make arrangements to move out of Lillian’s house. I’ve already stayed longer than I intended.”
“There’s no hurry. You know that.”
“I do, and I’m grateful. But under the circumstances, I think it’s best if I go.”
They started back along the path.
“Where will you go?” he finally asked.
“The Verandah, I suppose. Until I can make more permanent arrangements. Norah Dudley offered me the chance to buy her shop. I’ll speak to the banker next week.”
“If you need a loan—”
She shook her head. “My father was terrible at taking his own advice, but he always said that before borrowing money from a friend, one should consider which is needed more. I’d much rather have you as a friend than a creditor.”
They gathered their belongings and returned to the rig. Wyatt was silent on the drive home through the warm spring afternoon. Ada took in the set of his jaw, the planes of his tanned face, the way his strong hands handled the reins. She loved him. Loved the virtues of his heart—patience, compassion, kindness. She could live to be a hundred and never find another who would love her like Wyatt did. But she had made her choice. Perhaps one day he would see it was best for both of them.
He drove into the yard and stopped. Ada stepped out of the rig and reached behind him for the basket. She went inside while he tended to Smoky and led him into the barn. Through the kitchen window, she saw him leading Cherokee into the yard. The realization that she might never see him again sat like an anvil on her heart.
He came into the hallway, turning his Stetson in his hands. All the light seemed to have gone out of him. “I think I’ll head back to Chicago in the morning, wait around for the papers to be signed. I’m not sure how long I’ll be gone.”
“All right.” Her eyes went hot with fresh tears.
“Let me know when you’re ready to go, and I’ll send someone to help you move your things.”
“I don’t have much, but I’d appreciate that.”
He nodded. “Good-bye, Ada.”
Watching him mount Cherokee, she felt her heart slip its moorings, disconnecting her from the one person in the world who mattered most. She leaned against the door and sobbed.
THIRTY-TWO
The railway-station clock read ten o’clock precisely as Ada halted her rig outside the bank. Already, Hickory Ridge buzzed with activity. Travelers milled about outside Nate Chastain’s bookshop, waiting for it to open, admiring India, who had curled into the sunny window for a nap. Patsy Greer arrived and waved to Ada as she unlocked the door to the Gazette office. Farm wives came and went from the bakery and the mercantile.
Ada tethered Smoky and entered the bank. The young man at the front desk looked up from his ledger. “Good morning. May I help you?”
“I’m Ada Wentworth. Mr. Gilman is expecting me.”
“He’s up the street at the barber’s, getting a shave, but he’ll be back shortly. Please follow me.”
He rose and led Ada past the teller’s cage to a small office in the back. He raised the window shade, letting in the morning sunlight, and motioned her into a chair. “Make yourself comfortable.”
Ada smoothed the folds of her skirt and tried to calm her nerves. She’d spent all night going over her figures, hoping the banker would grant her the loan that was her last hope of remaining solvent. In the months since she’d been attacked on the road, she’d received only one more hat order. She wasn’t certain whether it was a sign of the worsening economic times Norah Dudley had mentioned or whether potential customers were afraid to do business with her. She had banked the three months’ pay Wyatt gave her after Lillian’s death, but it wouldn’t last forever. She would need more to tide her over until she could figure out what came next.
She looked around the banker’s well-appointed office. A floralpatterned rug covered the wide plank floor. Framed hunting scenes hung on the wall behind a massive cherrywood desk. A table beneath the window held a small gold clock and a stack of leather-bound books. The room smelled faintly of tobacco and the same brand of hair tonic Edward had used.
She shook her head. It wouldn’t do to think of Edward now.
The bell above the door emitted a faint chime. The banker strode into the room and greeted her with the same brisk efficiency as the bankers and lawyers who had overseen the dismantling of her family’s estate.
“Miss Wentworth.” The banker’s voice was hearty. “Sorry to keep you waiting. My barber was a bit long-winded this morning.” He sat down in his chair and smiled at her across the desk. “The whole town is talking about the sale of the mill and what it means for Two Creeks.”
So. The deal was done. Ada swallowed the knot in her throat. She hadn’t spoken to Wyatt i
n two weeks. It felt like a year.
Mr. Gilman reached into a drawer and brought out a leather folder. He cleared his throat. “Now, what can I do for you?”
“I—I want to take out a loan. To purchase the dress shop.”
“I see.”
“I intend to sell off Mrs. Dudley’s inventory and convert the space to a hat shop.”
He picked up a pen and opened the folder. “And how much of the purchase price will you need to borrow?”
“Actually, all of it. Or almost all of it, anyway. I’ve only been here a short time, you see, but I’ve filled quite a few orders already.” She opened her bag and handed him the sheet she’d prepared detailing her expenses and income over the past months.
The banker glanced at it and set it aside. “I’m afraid you don’t understand the enormity of what you’d be taking on, Miss Wentworth. The annual interest alone would amount to more than you’ve earned. In addition, there’s the cost of supplies, advertising, taxes. Have you considered all that?”
She shook her head and clasped her hands so hard her knuckles turned white. He was turning her down.
“Do you have any collateral?” He pushed her paper back across the desk. “That is, anything of substantial value to secure the loan?”
“I know what collateral is. And no, I haven’t any.”
He shook his head. “That’s too bad. My advice is to wait until you can show a larger profit. Perhaps in another year or two—”
“But how can I expand my business without a proper space and without enough money to buy supplies?”
He waved one hand dismissively. Clearly, he didn’t care one whit whether or not she survived. “If we lent money to people in positions as precarious as yours, this bank would go under inside of a year. Perhaps there’s a male relative, someone who’d be willing to be responsible for you?”
“No. There’s no one.” She rose, willing herself not to cry.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t be more helpful.” He got up to walk her out, and Ada saw a spot of shaving lather that had dried behind his ear. Somehow it made him seem a bit more human.