by Jodi Thomas
Bethanie moved to the stove as Allison lovingly scolded Mike. They sat at the table, lost in each other. Mike gripped her tiny hands in his as they talked. He was as fascinated by her as any man Bethanie had ever seen. He studied her every pose as a painter might examine a model.
Bethanie slipped unnoticed from the room. She would give them time alone, for, as she knew, shared moments were too precious to lose. Her heart felt like a ton weight as she longed for Josh by her side. To feel his arms around her once more would be worth any price. But Josh was gone and she must make her own way with only the memory to comfort her.
Bethanie moved through the dining area to the main room. To her surprise she heard several male voices. As she entered the room, Ben caught her eye. “We have guests, Beth. Will you bring coffee?”
Bethanie nodded as she glanced over the men who were warming themselves by the fire. One was a tall, slender man carrying a tattered Bible. Two others were strangers, but as they shed their coats, Bethanie noticed their guns were strapped low like gunfighters. Another large man, with his back to her, was wrestling with his coat. As he turned slightly, Bethanie’s breath caught in her throat. There was no mistaking Wilbur’s frame or stance. She darted unnoticed back into the dining area. She was out of sight to all but Ben, and he seemed to pay no notice to her. Bethanie’s heart pounded wildly in fear as she listened to the men.
Wilbur’s voice filled the air. “I came as fast as I could. I’m so thankful my daughter and niece survived. I thank you, Mr. Weston, for housing them, but I’ll be takin’ them home in the morning. I’ve got a business to get back to.”
Ben raised one eyebrow. “You’re welcome to sleep in the bunkhouse tonight, along with Preacher Wilson here and your two hired guns.” There was a note of distaste in Ben’s voice as he mentioned the two men.
“Oh, they ain’t hired guns,” Wilbur babbled. Ben seemed to make him uncomfortable. He always talked faster when he was around someone he disliked. “They’re just friends I thought I might need if we ran into any Indian trouble.”
Bethanie could listen to no more. She hurried back to the kitchen. Allison and Mike were too engrossed in each other to notice her. “Allison,” Bethanie cleared her throat. “Your father’s here.”
Allison jumped up in a flurry of ruffles and ran from the kitchen, discarding Mike like a forgotten toy. Bethanie went about making coffee as Mike sulked like a hunting dog in winter. She felt sorry for Mike. He was falling so hard for Allison.
“She’s going back,” Mike said more to himself than Bethanie.
“I guess so,” Bethanie answered. “Unless you ask her to stay.”
“I can’t,” Mike said thoughtfully. “Maybe next spring, but not now. Guess I’m just not as sure of her as Josh was of you.”
Bethanie nodded, trying to understand. If Mike loved Allison, what did it matter if it were this spring or next? “Did you tell her you’re a Ranger?”
Mike leaned forward threading his fingers deep into his blond hair. “No,” he mumbled. “I can’t jeopardize everyone. Allison likes me, but her loyalty to her father is great. Josh believed Wilbur is in league with some Mexicans who are trying to monopolize the cattle sales, but Ben thinks he’s working with one of the ranchers between here and San Antonio. Either way, Allison may end up in the middle of one big mess.”
Bethanie laid her hand on Mike’s shoulder. “You’re right about one thing. It’s better if she doesn’t know.” She knew Allison well enough to know her sweet cousin couldn’t be entrusted with a secret. She would probably never willingly hurt anyone, but sometimes her mouth rambled more than an apple in an empty wagon bed.
“As soon as this mess is cleared up, I’m going to resign from the Rangers.” Mike smiled lopsidedly. “Do you think Allison will wait for me? I’d like to marry her someday.”
Bethanie tried to sound hopeful. “She would be a fool if she didn’t.”
The answer seemed to satisfy Mike. He stood and gave Bethanie a brotherly kiss on the cheek. “I can see why Josh was so crazy about you.” He pulled on his hat. “Tell Allison I’ll see her tomorrow night. I’ve got to check the herd. If I don’t leave out the back door now, I’ll never go.”
The coffee boiled ready, splashing onto the stove, as Mike closed the back door. Bethanie braced herself and picked up the tray of cups and coffee for the men out front. She dreaded being in the same room with Wilbur, but knew she would be safe with Ben present. Cold as he might be, she knew he would allow no one to harm her in his house.
To her relief, Ruth met her at the dining-room door and offered to take the tray from her. Bethanie was able to slip back into the kitchen to her quiet peace. The kitchen was large and always seemed cold when they weren’t cooking. In summer it would probably be the coolest room in the house, thanks to the cliff’s shading. She hugged herself and sat by the low coals trying to stop shaking. Her mind hadn’t dealt completely with Josh’s death and now she must deal with Wilbur.
Bethanie managed to avoid Wilbur all evening as she tried to think of a way to keep from returning to San Antonio with him. She was thankful Ben didn’t invite Wilbur to the house for dinner. Allison ate in her room as usual. She was sulking over Mike not saying goodbye, and crying because her father insisted on leaving in the morning.
Bethanie ate silently across from Ben, lost in her own thoughts. She knew one thing for certain, she would not go back. Maybe Ben would loan her money to go East. She could look for work somewhere. She had enough education to teach school or perhaps work as a cook on some farm as her mother had done. She doubted if Ben would give her work here, for after the roundup Ruth could easily handle everything.
Everyone in the house retired, yet Bethanie spent late hours in the kitchen, hoping to find some solution to her problem as she cleaned. There must be a way to avoid returning with Wilbur. As she stepped onto the back porch to throw out the dishwater, a fat shadow jumped toward her. Strong porky fingers grabbed her arms as soapy water spilled over Bethanie’s skirt. She jerked back, but Wilbur was too strong for her. He pinned her against the rough wall of the house with his bloated body.
“Well, well,” Wilbur said without parting his teeth. “Now, Bethanie, you haven’t greeted your dear old uncle yet.”
“Let me go or I’ll scream,” Bethanie answered, twisting her arms in panic.
“Why cause a ruckus?” Wilbur shrugged and let her go. “I can wait. Come dawn, you’ll be on your way back to the hotel with me, and then we can have our fun. With Martha gone, I’ll be needing you more than I thought. I was too easy on you before. You got high and mighty, but I’ll bring you down real fast, girlie. You ain’t nothing but trash, and don’t you forget it just because we treat you good.”
“I’m not going back with you!” Bethanie cried, rubbing her bruised arms.
Wilbur raised his hand to strike her, then thought better of it. “Who’s gonna stop me from taking you? These people ain’t gonna interfere with a family squabble. That cripple, Ben, is the only one who’s got any spirit and he’s worthless.” Wilbur grinned, showing his yellow, decaying teeth. “No, I’m telling you, come mornin’ you’re going back. I already promised the two men with me they could have a turn with you tomorrow night as long as they take you out of Allison’s hearing.”
He laughed his cruel laugh. “I’m posting a guard, so don’t think of running away. You might as well set your mind to the fact that your bed is made and ain’t nothing gonna change.”
Bethanie twisted against the house, pawing her way to the back door. She bolted and jumped inside with Wilbur’s words in her ears. He had her life all planned. Bethanie locked the door and leaned against it. Thank God he had to sleep in the bunkhouse. She couldn’t have stayed under the same roof with him overnight. Just the thought that he was on the ranch sickened her.
Taking a deep breath, Bethanie slowly walked through the dark house to her room. She had to control her fear and think of something.
Welcoming the quiet solitude of
her bedroom, Bethanie knelt beside the tiny fire and held her skirt out to dry. The dress was the only thing of value she owned and it had been given to her by a stranger. She looked around the room, watching the shadows of the fire dance across the walls. This might be her last night in this comforting room. The colors had seemed to welcome her before, but now they gave no answer to her problem. Why couldn’t their warm glow heat the icy cold feeling in her chest. Bethanie wished she could talk to the ghosts who must haunt this room and beg for help.
A light tapping at her door startled Bethanie. She hastily wiped the tears from her cheeks, “Come in,” she whispered, wondering what Allison wanted at this hour.
To her shock, Ben opened the door and slowly rolled his wheelchair through the entrance. His dark hair was tousled, and his shirt was unbuttoned halfway down his chest. Though his appearance told of his hurried rising from sleep, there was no hint of slumber in his eyes. He moved to the edge of the rug she was sitting on and folded his hands, staring at her for a long moment.
“Beth,” he began as he lowered his eyes to examine the arm of his wheelchair. “I’ll not waste words. Ruth came to me tonight. She told me of a very disturbing conversation she overheard outside her window between you and your uncle.” There was no emotion in his voice. Bethanie heard no sign of caring in his tone and, thankfully, no sign of scorn.
Bethanie’s face reddened, and she turned away to stare into the fire, not knowing what to say. How could she tell this cold man anything? Yet he was her only avenue of help.
Ben continued. “Wilbur told me you were orphaned, and he took you in. He also said you were worthless and of little help, so I know he’s a poor judge of women.”
Bethanie smiled at Ben’s offhanded compliment. She could just see Wilbur trying to tell Ben anything. Ben’s honest statement about her told her why his men must respect him so. He might be cold, but he spoke his mind when needed, without lies or flattery.
“Do you want to go back to San Antonio?” Ben asked bluntly as he rolled a few feet closer to her.
“No!” Bethanie answered emphatically, “I’d rather die.” She looked up at him, allowing him to see the tears bubble over and run down her cheeks. She had to be truthful with him.
Ben’s face wrinkled with her sudden declaration. He rubbed the short hairs along his jawline with his thumb. “I’ve been thinking about another way out, but it may not be much more to your liking than death.”
“What?” Bethanie was intrigued, willing to hear anything. She’d heard Ruth say that Ben was a very smart man. He had to be intelligent to run a ranch this large from his desk. Maybe he’d thought of a plan she had overlooked.
“I first thought about loaning you money for a ticket out of Texas, but he just might find you while you waited for the stage, and I can’t spare enough men to fight his two hired guns.”
“Oh.” Bethanie let her shoulders drop along with her hopes of escape. This had been her only plan, too, and Ben was right about it. Even if she could get to town, she might have to wait days for the stage.
Ben cleared his throat. “From the first time you walked into my house, I’ve cared about your welfare. Cared more than I’ve ever allowed myself to for a woman.”
Bethanie looked up in surprise, but Ben was staring at his lifeless legs as he continued. “If we were married, he couldn’t take you.”
“What?” Bethanie asked in disbelief. Ben seemed nervous for the first time.
“I said, if we were married you’d be my responsibility and he would have no rights. I can wake up the preacher and we can get it done tonight.”
Bethanie put her hands to her chin and thought about his wild suggestion. She wasn’t sure she would be a great deal better off with this cold man. Ben had been none too friendly these past few days. What would he be like if they married? But he was an honest man who was definitely respected by those around him.
“Do you plan to marry another?” Ben asked, as if the thought had just occurred to him.
“No,” Bethanie answered, “I never planned to marry at all. I think you wouldn’t make such an offer if you knew about me.” She closed her eyes as she forced the words from her. “My parents were Shakers. They never married. I’ve been told that no decent man would ever marry me.”
A long moment of silence passed between them. Finally Ben asked, “I’ve read about the Shakers. They are a kind people, dedicated to cleanliness, industry, and celibacy.” His voice slowed slightly at the last word.
Bethanie nodded, surprised at his knowledge. “My parents broke one Shaker law, obviously.” She studied his intelligent face more closely. She had met very few people over the years who understood Shakers. Most folks were afraid of them, thinking they were possessed because they danced and spoke in tongues. Some even thought them witches because of the ointments they made from the marrow of hog jaw, the repulsive substance believed to have great healing powers.
“Do you hold with Shaker beliefs?” Ben asked.
“Most. I was taught nursing and the use of herbs from my mother. She was a kind woman, who did her best to live by the faith.” Bethanie looked back toward the fireplace. What else could she say? Martha’s words kept pounding in her head, “No decent man will marry you.”
Ben seemed consumed with his own thoughts. He was probably wishing he had never asked her to marry him, Bethanie thought. Josh might have overlooked everything because of his love, but Ben did not hold such feelings. How could he ever withstand the future gossip?
Ben’s voice was as firm as his grip on the arm of his wheelchair. “Well, Beth, make up your mind. We haven’t got much time. I’m a respectable man and I’m offering marriage.”
“But people would talk.” Bethanie shook her head. “They’ve always talked.”
“They probably would. More about why you married me, than why I married you. But as Mrs. Ben Weston, I promise you they would never say a word in front of me. Half the people in Texas have something in their past they don’t want brought up. Your parents’ sin seems no greater than what most people have to hide.”
Ben studied her with his dark, coffee brown eyes. “I can see how you fit being from Shaker background. You’re definitely industrious and believe in cleanliness. As for celibacy…” He stopped, at a sudden loss of words. He raked his fingers through his black hair. “I say this in order to be truthful right from the start. I can do my duty as a husband, but I will not demand it. You can have this room as yours and continue to help out on the ranch as you have this week. I know I’m no bargain for a husband, but when I’m dead this ranch will be yours. Josh was my only kin. You’ll always have a home, and I’m not a poor man. But understand this, Beth. Once you’re my wife, it will be for life. What I have, I hold. There will be no leaving once Wilbur is gone.”
The idea of a home appealed to Bethanie. She had spent her life living in the back quarters of ranches where her mother worked as the cook. She could never remember having her own room. “You’ll not force yourself on me?” she questioned. She didn’t want a repetition of her problem with Uncle Wilbur.
Ben laughed dryly. “I can hardly do that, but if you choose to come to my bed, you come to stay. I’ll not play games with the marriage act. Whether or not you cross that hallway is up to you. I’ll respect you as my wife either way.”
Bethanie studied Ben. The gray hair at his temples flashed silver in the firelight. There was no emotion in his face. He was making a business deal, she thought. She was getting away from Wilbur, and he was getting a housekeeper. It was a fair trade.
Bethanie lifted her chin. “Tell Ruth to wake the preacher,” she said as she stood and began straightening her dress. Her only dress. Her wedding dress.
At dawn Wilbur cheerfully loaded his packhorse. He shook Ben’s hand and said his thanks in a hurried tone. His smile widened as Allison and Bethanie stepped onto the porch. “Mount up,” he ordered, showing his yellowed smile as he stared at Bethanie. He seemed relieved that he didn’t have to go searching f
or her this morning.
Allison moved to her horse and allowed one of Ben’s men to help her up. She smiled sweetly at the cowhands who wandered out of the bunkhouse to. wave goodbye. Bethanie stepped behind Ben’s chair as he had instructed her to do.
“Bethanie!” Wilbur shouted in frustration. “Get on your horse.”
“She’s not going.” Ben smiled at Wilbur’s reaction. The fat old man puffed up like a toad. Ben’s gaze left no doubt about how little he thought of the man before him. With a nod he signaled his men to move closer to the porch.
Wilbur slung his reins to one of the men and stormed to the foot of the porch. He shoved at the cowboys who stood planted in front of the steps. “Now look here, mister, you have no right interfering with family matters.” Wilbur took one step up the porch, pulling up his belt as he walked. His fat cheeks reddened with anger at the needless delay.
“You’re right,” Ben stated as he lifted a gun from under the blanket that covered his legs and laid it carefully in his lap. “My wife stays with me.” His words could have been said in mild conversation, but their force was disquieting upon Wilbur.
“What?” the fat man screamed, his face a red beet of anger. “Your wife?”
“That’s right,” the preacher said as he stepped onto the porch, unaware of the drama before him. “I married these two last night. Quite a hurry to tie the knot, I must say.”
“Bethanie!” Allison cried. “You didn’t marry him!” Her emphasis on “him” left no doubt what a poor choice she thought Ben to be.
“Yes.” Bethanie held up her head proudly, though her fingers were white from gripping Ben’s chair. “He’s a fine man, and I’m honored to be his wife.” She would not allow anyone to see the sorrow in her heart or the relief that blended with her blood and flowed in a calming wave through her body.
Allison shook her curls in disbelief. Her pouting bottom lip stuck out, telling all of her unhappiness. Bethanie knew Allison was already thinking of how this marriage would affect her.