They entered the mercantile. Before shopping for anything else, Brian and Adele asked to see the ring tray. They saw gold wedding bands suitable for both of them, but the prices seemed high.
Brian had decided that he would wear a wedding ring. Chances were that the amputation of his finger was a freak occurrence that would not happen again. Besides, Adele had asked him to do so. Loving Adele was worth the risk wearing a wedding ring might carry.
"Adele, why don't you get the rest of the things on the list while I go to the livery and find out what it will cost to repair the wagon axle."
Brian left, having received directions to the livery, which was next to the smithy. The estimate on the new axle disappointed him. He looked at the money in his pocket, virtually all of the money the Stoddards had in the world, and realized they could have a new axle or wedding rings, but not both, not this year.
Brian looked down at his hands. Brown and callused from hard, backbreaking work, a far cry from the smooth white "city" hands that had newly gripped an ax handle barely six months before. Yet all the work and change hadn't put an extra penny in the coffer, nor could he repair a wagon and keep a promise to his beloved. If anything, his being there had been a drain on the budget rather than a help.
Once outside the livery, Brian kicked the dirt in frustration and let fly a curse to his bad luck. In the flying dirt, he dislodged an object. He stooped down to examine it. It was a bent horseshoe nail, doubtless dragged out of the smithy by the treading of feet and hooves. Brian held it in the palm of one hand, pushing it around with the other. It poked off his palm, the ends falling between his fingers while the bend balanced on one finger.
Quickly, Brian measured the nail against his ring finger, and with a feeling of triumph strode into the smithy, hope replacing the former disappointment.
Meanwhile, Adele bought canned and dried goods, flour and sugar, a couple of extra large union suits, new lengths of green and red fabric to replace the quilt calico she had made into shirts, along with some more muslin and ten yards of blue cambric, packets of needles and--with a grin--the largest brass thimble in the mercantile. She also added new pencils and drawing paper for Susannah and a couple of dime novels for her book-hungry man. She was making arrangements for delivery when Brian came back into the mercantile. He reached into his pocket to pay the shop owner.
"What about the rings?" asked Adele.
"We can't fix the axle and have gold wedding rings. I'm sorry, my darling, but you tell me which is more important."
"The axle. Wedding rings will just have to wait."
"Perhaps next year we can afford gold rings." He pulled her close to him, pressing her head to his chest. "I'm sorry. Will you marry me anyway?"
"Try and stop me."
When they got to the justice of the peace, the clock at the depot had just reached one thirty. Mr. and Mrs. Duneagan were waiting and the judge, who had to hurry because he had afternoon court to call into session, rushed quickly and emotionlessly through the ceremony.
"Do you declare yourselves before these witnesses to be husband and wife?"
"I do," they answered in unison.
"Then by the power invested in me by the territorial government of Wyoming, I now pronounce you man and wife...That's it, folks, in the middle of a trial, got to get back into session." A moment later he walked from his office into the small courtroom.
Mrs. Duneagan observed, "I'm so sorry, my dear. I didn't even have time to work up a good cry."
Her husband put in, "Grace, you needn't cry for the wedding to be a good one. Well, you're good and married now. You, my boyo, be good to this lady, she's had more than her share of managing alone."
"I will, sir. Thank you for standing up with us. We'll see you in the fall, if not sooner. Come on, Adele, we're done here. Let's get something to eat and head on home."
Taking Adele by the arm, he guided her outside. The May afternoon was sunny and mildly warm. They had reached the dining room of the hotel when Adele started weeping.
Brian held her closely, stroking her hair as she cried.
Through her tears, she gasped, "I never thought I...would ever get married, but I always hoped that...if I ever did...I always thought...that my wedding day would be beautiful...Not slapdash...and so short...Like he didn't care."
Brian guided her to a chair at a table and knelt on one knee before her. "He didn't have to care. I care." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a paper-wrapped object. He opened her right hand and dropped it there.
"What's this?"
"Open it."
Adele did. In the paper were two horseshoe nails, forged and welded into circlets. Brian picked up the smaller of the two and slid it onto her left ring finger.
"With this ring, I thee wed. Now and forever, till death do we part. Now you."
Adele stared at her left hand, then picked the other circlet and pushed it onto his left ring finger.
"With this...ring, I thee wed. Now and forever, till death us do part."
"Never forget that I love you," he added, pressing a gentle kiss on her lips before he rose and sat opposite her at the table.
"I never will."
Chapter 8
San Francisco
IT WAS A sunny day in Green River, but in Stephen Carroll's San Francisco, even a sunny day seemed overcast.
Blair was still missing. It had been six months now and the Pinkertons had so far found no trace of him.
The latest report lay on Stephen's desk. The station master in Rock Springs vaguely remembered telling a few people that there was westbound service at Green River, and even more vaguely remembered that a man meeting Blair Carroll's description was one he told. The livery stable owner remembered renting the horse, but reported that it returned twenty-four hours after being taken out, riderless, with nothing attached to the saddle.
An investigator had gone to Green River, but no one recognized anyone looking like Blair. Between Rock Springs and Green River were hundreds of square miles of isolated farms. Some were deserted when the investigators called, their inhabitants away. Others yielded no clues. The report indicated that repeat attempts would be made later on where there was evidence that the owners were merely away and that further reports would follow.
There was also a letter from Blair's fiancée, Julia Longridge, breaking their engagement. It had come with the return of her engagement ring. Stephen didn't want to think of what other gifts she had kept.
Stephen was reaching to file the report with the earlier ones when a knock came on his door. Given consent, the door opened and Carroll Enterprises' General Manager, Owen Winslow, came in.
Winslow had been second in charge under Oscar Carroll and had remained so under Blair. The land-loving son of a New Bedford whaling man, he knew ships and shipping, but preferred to send them rather than sail them. Stephen always thought Winslow looked like Ichabod Crane, tall, skinny, angular and bespectacled, but was glad to have the dour old Yankee on board. The young lawyer knew for certain that Winslow's advice and expertise were keeping the company afloat in this crisis--a lot more than Stephen's one year in practice were anyway.
"Mr. Winslow?"
"Mr. Carroll, are you occupied this moment?"
Stephen remembered when Winslow called him by his first name; then the first six months, before Blair disappeared, it became "Mr. Stephen," to differentiate between the two Mr. Carrolls. Without ever asking him to, Winslow began to refer to Stephen by his last name, conferring on Stephen a respect and authority he needed to hold the reins of the company. Stephen knew his hold on the reins was with white knuckles--how had Blair done this at sixteen while at twenty-five Stephen was scared to death?
"Nothing that can't wait ten minutes," was Stephen's reply. "Please ask Todd to get us some coffee."
Winslow looked at the report in Stephen's hand. "Any news of Mr. Blair?"
"None. But no bad news."
"His absence is deeply felt, Mr. Carroll. This company is his more than
it was ever the senior Mr. Carroll's, if I may be so candid."
"Certainly more his than it will ever be mine."
Winslow left, leaving the door ajar.
Owen Winslow returned a few moments later, carrying a battered coffee pot. He refilled Stephen's cup. Usually Todd Mason, the young clerk, would perform this function, but Winslow sensed that Stephen would need to talk.
"There was a messenger from Miss Longridge this morning?"
"She finally got tired of waiting for Blair. She's marrying Gerald Rafferty. I'm sure she'll make Rafferty very unhappy, almost as unhappy as I'm sure she would have made Blair. If it were anyone else, I would feel sorry for the man. If she sucks Rafferty dry, it will only be good for Carroll Enterprises. That's cruel of me, I know. Like something Blair might say."
"Mr. Carroll, I've observed that some men would rather be unhappy with a beautiful but stupid girl than happy with a smart but plain one."
"I've noticed that, too. What I wouldn't give to meet someone smart and pretty...even smart and not so pretty... Well, I've got time... Actually right now I don't have time... God, I don't know what I'm saying anymore!" Stephen buried his face in his hands and began to laugh.
Winslow chuckled indulgently. Then, seriously, he said, "Mr. Carroll, I've known you nearly your entire life. Under the circumstances, I feel obliged to ask you your true feelings in this matter. Do you think your brother is still alive?"
Stephen looked up and was quiet for a moment. A shadow passed over his face. "Mr. Winslow, somehow I think if he were dead I would know it. Right now I have to believe he's alive. I can't see myself holding onto this company for myself, nor for my father's benefit. If I thought Blair was dead I'd sell out to one of the other shipping lines and just hang out my shingle. I'm not cut out to be a shipping magnate. I'm a lawyer. It's what I love most in the world. In trying to do both I'm not doing justice to either."
"If you must know, Mr. Stephen, you are doing a creditable job in Mr. Blair's absence...."
"With your able assistance, but I'm not Blair. I leave here every day numb to the bone. It's a good thing I'm not a drinking man or I'd probably be drinking myself into oblivion every night...."
"Has anything happened about Mr. Blair's son?"
Stephen nodded. "Until Blair is here to tell me differently, I decided to let Joshua stay with his mother as long as she's able to take care of him. Her attorney writes she only has a few months left, a year at most. I'm sending money to support them both, and I'll leave my nephew in a secure home in Milwaukee where he can visit her until she dies. After that, we'll see."
Stephen pulled his watch out of his vest pocket. "I'm going for a walk and get some lunch while I still have some brain left. I'll meet with you at say, two o'clock?"
Winslow rose as Stephen did. "Excellent, Mr. Carroll. Two o'clock."
FUNNY HOW THE ride home seemed to take Brian and Adele less time than the going there. The late afternoon's lengthening shadows cast a soft light on the range, giving everything a fairy glow. Or was it the magic of two lovers, united in life, traveling the familiar path truly together?
They turned onto the final path and the weathered barn and the house beyond it became visible in the growing darkness. They embraced in the barn and again on the porch, clinging closely to one another, communicating although neither had said a word for hours.
For the first time in her life, Susannah felt invisible. Adele and Brian were operating in a small world that today had only room for two. They picked at dinner, not conversing, but periodically touching each other's faces as if to assure themselves the day had been real.
Fortunately, the girl felt secure enough to know she was not being slighted and jealousy never entered her mind. She had known Adele and Brian would not be able to spend their wedding night truly alone, such as in a hotel, and so had created an aloneness of their own.
On entering the bedroom, Adele gasped and said, "Look, Brian." With a wide smile, Adele ran her hand over the top of the bed. "While we were in town, Susannah put my Wedding Ring quilt on our bed."
Brian looked at the white quilt with its pattern of interlocking rings of colored wedges. "So?"
"Every girl is supposed to make a Wedding Ring quilt to use on her marriage bed. I never thought I would ever be able to use mine." She glanced up at him. "Then I met you and my whole life changed."
"I love you, Adele."
"I love you, Brian."
That night they made love gently, almost silently. Their consummation was marked only by the changes of breathing and the sense of touch. Each had become so familiar with the other's body that no words needed be spoken, they instinctively knew what would flood the senses, spill the warmth. As Brian's manly hardness slid securely into Adele's answering softness, there was first ease, followed by the more rapid thrusting as he reached the point of no return to be met by Adele's shuddering fulfillment as he emptied his essence into her welcoming vessel. They took their cries of pleasure into each other's waiting mouths, jealously guarding their passions to their exclusive keeping.
What followed was a warm, safe slumber, Adele wrapped in the circle of Brian's right arm and side, her hair streaming long over the pillows and quilt and Brian's arm.
As morning broke, Brian slowly opened his eyes, still holding Adele to him. As he looked to the end of the bed, he saw Susannah sitting on a chair, sketching them as they slept. His eyes opened wider and Susannah gave him a mischievous look. Brian nodded and grinned knowingly like a man secure with his love. Susannah finished the sketch and removed the chair long before Adele ever opened her eyes.
Later, Adele saw the portrait; she didn't know whether to laugh or scream. In it, she lay on her left side, covered to just below the shoulders with the quilt, her cheek and right hand resting on Brian's chest, his thick mat of chest hair curling about her fingers. Brian's right arm was wrapped around her on top of the quilt, his mutilated hand realistically drawn. His left arm was draped behind his head and he looked out with a knowing expression, love, desire and contentment mirrored in his handsome features. Susannah had written at the bottom of the vellum, "Wedding Morning--Susannah--May 1874."
Brian would later make a frame for the sketch and it would be Adele's most prized possession.
SPRING GAVE way to summer. They say marriage changes a couple, even if they have been lovers before. So it was with the Stranges. If it was possible they became closer, more physical with each other, less inhibited by their closeness.
Besides maintenance of the crop, Brian set himself to replacing shelves and cupboards with better-made ones now that the weather was warm enough to spend time outside. His carpentry skill was steadily improving. Considering he was starting from scratch, it was remarkable indeed.
It was early August when Adele located Brian finishing a new bureau for their bedroom. He was stripped to the waist and Adele marveled at his bronzed, masculine beauty; at the play of the muscles beneath his work- and heat-dampened skin. She said a quick prayer of thanksgiving to God for putting this handsome, diligent and gentle man in her life. Her heart was so full of love for him that Adele feared it might explode someday. She slid her arms around his bare shoulders and kissed him lightly on the neck. She loved the way he smelled. She inhaled deeply against his skin.
"What's prompted this?" Brian asked.
"Just that I love you."
He turned around to hold her. "I know that. It's my anchor. If I ever thought you didn't, I think I'd shrivel up and blow away. My universe revolves around you, my sweet rock. Whatever strength I have I've received from you."
For a long moment they stood, leaning into each other's embrace. Adele heard the steady beat of Brian's heart deep in his now powerful chest. If she was his rock, he was most certainly hers. She knew that to lose him would be her death--if not of her body then, at least, her soul. But she had news, and so pulled away.
She pointed to the bureau. "What's that?"
"It's a new bureau to hold our clothes so we d
on't need to use that trunk anymore. It's probably the last thing I'm going to be able to finish before we start harvest."
Adele lightly ran her fingers along the plain, smooth surfaces. The bureau was plain, but well made.
"You're getting so good at this, one would think you were a carpenter in your former life."
"Not with those city hands you were so fond of pointing out to me." He took her hands in his. "My hands aren't so soft and pretty now."
"That's true, but they're hands a man can be proud of. They're the hands of a man who can take care of his family. They're the hands of the man I love, and I wouldn't trade them for all the city hands I could ever hope to hold. Actually, I came out here because there is something I'd like you to make that we're going to need soon."
"What did you have in mind?"
"Well...I was thinking in terms of a cradle."
"Of cours...Did you say a cradle?"
"Um-hmmm."
"A baby?"
"Um-hmmm."
"You and me?"
Adele looked towards the heavens. "No, you and some other girl."
Brian screamed with joy. He picked Adele up under her arms and swung her around.
"When?" he asked.
"My best guess--Spring--March probably--with any luck before planting."
"How do you feel?"
Adele grinned. "I couldn't feel better if I tried. I'm so glad you're pleased with the news."
"Pleased! Pleased doesn't begin to describe it. My God, Adele, nine months ago I had nothing, not even a name. Now I have everything a man could want. A home, a loving wife and now a family. I'm probably the happiest man alive."
"Do you worry much about your memory?" she asked cautiously.
"Sometimes I have flashes like lightning illuminating scenes I feel I should know. I see a room with dark walls and a large desk. And sometimes a bedroom with bulky furniture. Everything is dark and oppressively massive. I also see images of a view of a large city. I'm on a hill overlooking the city and there's a large sea or bay."
"Do you recognize the city?"
Remember My Love Page 10