Lady Sundown (#1 of the Danner Quartet)

by Nancy Bush

  “You want to what?” he asked, his expression grim.

  “Nothing. I just need to meet Jace, that’s all.”

  “Like last night?”

  Her jaw tensed. “Yes, like last night. Were you spying on me?”

  “I saw enough to forbid you to meet Jace Garrett,” he ground out.

  Lexie’s lips parted. “You forbid it?” She was incensed all over again. “Now listen to me, Tremaine Danner. You can’t tell me what to do. I’m almost eighteen, and I know what I’m doing.” At his continued silence she swallowed her anger and shook her head, adding insistently, “I’ve got to do this my way. I’m meeting Jace, and were going to plan how to approach our parents.”

  Tremaine’s eyes were hooded in the gloomy afternoon light and Lexie tried hard to peer up and see what he was thinking. But instead her gaze found his mouth and a strange liquid sensation swept through her, surprising her, so much so that it almost made her forget what she was saying.

  She felt how tense he was then, how rigidly he held himself in control. “Tremaine…?” she asked in a whisper, not understanding.

  “Tremaine! Lexington!” Pa’s voice boomed out and Tremaine released her so fast she almost stumbled. She saw her father’s straw hat as he sloshed through the puddles to the wooden ramp that led to the barn floor, three feet above the ground. As he climbed toward them, his boots scrunched on the grassy mud that coated the two-by-fours nailed to the ramp for purchase against the incessant Oregon rain.

  “Lexie, your mother wants you,” Pa said. “Run on up to the house. Tremaine, I’d like to speak to you.”

  His clipped voice boded trouble. Lexie glanced uncertainly at her father. Had he seen her sneak back to Matilda’s stall? One look at his weathered face and she knew that she — or Tremain — had stepped over that invisible line which separated acceptable behavior from disgraced. Her heart somersaulted. Could he know about Jace? Had Tremaine already told him?

  No, she didn’t think so. Tremaine, for all his faults, wouldn’t have let her think otherwise if he’d already given away her secret.

  “Yes, Pa,” Lexie murmured, slipping down the web boards, balanced only by her flailing arms as she half ran, half slid to the ground. She would come back later and check on Matilda, after her father was safely at the house. The fact that Pa had returned to the barn meant her mother must be very impatient to see her indeed — but about what Lexie couldn’t imagine.

  Her shoes sank into three inches of mud, and she cursed herself for not putting on boots first. She’d been anxious to get out of the house and away from her mother’s pile of needlework, and she’d been careful to skirt the worst mud pits — at least on the way to the barn.

  Dampness oozed into her toes as she struck out for the house. Guilt-stricken at the appearance of her shoes, and dreading the lectures she was bound to receive, Lexie held her skirts high and tiptoed from one grassy tuft to another. Halfway to the house she stopped. Her bonnet, the one she’d grabbed from its peg in her closet, the one her mother had ordered specially made for her to wear to church, the one Lexie had tossed gleefully onto the hay in the loft — was still in the barn. Eliza Smythe Danner could forgive many things, but Lexie knew she’d be pushing her luck by returning late, wet, bedraggled, and hatless to boot. For insurance purposes, she retraced her steps to the barn.

  She was at the bottom of the ramp when she heard her brother’s voice raised in anger.

  “…Why the hell can’t we tell her? She has a right to know the truth!”

  “There are reasons,” Pa answered evenly.

  “What reasons?”

  “It’s for her own protection.”

  “Well, I want her to know how many brothers she really has,” Tremaine growled. “It’s long past the time she should be told, and I’m tired of lying.”

  Lexie leaned closer, blinking in the rain. She stepped onto the ramp, her shoes sliding a little on the wet wood.

  “What difference does it make, son?” Pa demanded.

  “She’s grown-up. She has a right to know,” Tremaine answered mulishly.

  “When the time is right I’ll talk to her.” There was a short beat of silence, then Pa added, “That’s all, Tremaine.”

  Lexie stood at the end of the ramp, balancing herself. Rain had turned her blond hair to dank locks and at the sound of footsteps coming her way she wheeled around, nearly pitching head-first into the muck surrounding the barn before sinking into it again, ankle-deep. Desperate not to be caught eavesdropping, she lifted her dripping skirt and started for the house. But it was too late. Her father caught sight of her before she’d taken three steps.

  “Lexington. What are you doing here?” he demanded. He was standing in the doorway, looking as white-lipped and furious as she’d ever seen him.

  “I left my hat,” she answered, swallowing.

  “Then come up here and get it and go to the house.”

  “Yes, Pa.”

  She couldn’t meet his eyes as she clambered up the ramp, her mind abuzz with questions. They’d been discussing her. They had to have been. But none of their conversation made one lick of sense. What had Tremaine meant about how many brothers she had? She had four: Harrison, Jesse, Samuel, and Tremaine — though he was really only a half-brother. Could there be one she didn’t know about? It wasn’t possible! Unless Pa has been with someone else.

  The idea was so repugnant that Lexie thrust it from her mind. Pa was not that kind of man.

  Grabbing her hat, she squelched it onto her water-soaked head. Tremaine was standing by the manger, watching her, and she sent him a questioning look. Later she was going to demand he tell her what was going on, but for now she didn’t want to risk her father’s ire. He didn’t get mad often, but when he did “the skies open and pitchforks rain down,” as Cook had been known to mutter on more than one occasion.

  Lexie scrambled back down the ramp and set off in a full gallop toward the house, heedless of the mud spattered on her skirt. It was too late to salvage it anyway. She would go upstairs and change, toss her clothes in a washtub, then meet her mother. There was no time to dry her hair so maybe she could just keep her hat on, she reasoned.

  The Danner house stood at the end of a twisting lane, rising out of an emerald clearing, towered over on all sides by time-scarred oaks and firs. Whitewashed, its square pillars supported a steeply peaked shingled roof upon which stood a widow’s walk — “Eliza’s folly,” as her father so often fondly called it.

  Now, Lexie glanced upward, half-expecting her mother to be waiting for her within the confines of the walks pristine, curving balustrade. But there was no one up there. Her mother, unlike herself, had the sense to come in out of the rain.

  Tremaine’s horse and buggy were still standing beneath overhanging portico as Lexie approached the house. Her brows drew together.

  How had he seen her with Jace when he’d only just arrived?

  Pushing the question aside, Lexie ran for the back outside staircase. She had the more immediate problem of facing her mother — and she couldn’t do it, looking like this. Mounting the staircase that led to the hallway on the second floor, Lexie half-hopped, unbuttoning her shoes as she climbed. At the top of the landing she yanked off her shoes and socks and cracked open the door, listening. Not a sound issued from the warm depths of the house.

  Gently closing the door behind her, Lexie gingerly tiptoed toward her room, holding her shoes and socks aloft like a thief. The hardwood floor creaked beneath her feet and she glanced back to see the damage her tracks were making. She was going to have to do some quick cleaning up before Annie found the mess she’d made and reported to her mother.

  Lexie’s room was at the north end of the hall and around the corner to the right wing. She paused at the top of the double-wide staircase to the first floor, glancing down the scarlet carpet runner which nearly covered the oak steps. The entry hall was empty, the oil-fueled sconces on either side of the door emitting a soft warm glow. She breathed a sigh of
relief. She was alone. No sign of her mother.

  Lifting her skirts, Lexie’s heart nearly stopped when she heard, “Lexington, I would like to see you in the parlor.”

  Guilt nailed Lexie to the floor. From behind the shadowy arch below came a whisper of satin and Eliza Danner appeared, her eyes on her daughter, her face set in an expression that made Lexie’s spirits plummet. It didn’t help when she commanded in her deceptive soft southern drawl, “Now.”

  “Yes, mother,” Lexie murmured.

  “Leave your shoes at the top of the stairs. Annie will clean the hall.”

  With a sweep of satin she turned back toward the parlor, away from the staircase, the flames in the sconces dancing in the wake of her exit.

  Miserable, Lexie sank onto the top step, setting down her shoes. Her mother had a right to be upset. The shoes had been expensive and weren’t meant for farm work. But then why did she buy them for me? Lexie asked herself indignantly. Didn’t her mother know she had no use for such things? She’d be happier wearing a pair of her brother’s breeches and a work shirt and mucking out the barnyard than sitting in silk and satin and making perfect little stitches all the same size on pillowcases meant for her hope chest.

  She’s never going to let me become a horse doctor, Lexie thought unhappily, pushing her wringing-wet cotton socks into her shoes. It wasn’t the kind of thing a “real lady” would do.

  Eliza was sitting in a straight-backed gold brocade chair, her hands folded gracefully in her lap, as Lexie entered the parlor. Feeling like a schoolgirl, Lexie sat on the edge of a footstool, hoping she didn’t stain the needlepoint cushion with mud.

  A line formed between Eliza’s smooth brows as she noticed the disheveled state of Lexie’s clothes. “Could you please take off your bonnet?” she asked.

  Lexie swept the hat from her head, self-consciously pushing back a clump of wet blond hair.

  “Did Tremaine tell you I wanted to see you?”

  Lexie nodded. “I was hurrying to get back,” she said, aware of the small white lie.

  “Lexie, I’m not going to lecture you. I know your heart lies with this farm and all that goes with it.”

  “You do?”

  Eliza stood up, moving smoothly toward the front window. She gazed down at the curving lane, as if expecting someone to come. “Yes, I know. And I also know you are fixated on the idea of becoming a horse doctor.”

  Lexie squirmed a little. She didn’t like the way her mother put that.

  “Believe me when I tell you that I understand how you feel. But women can’t take care of livestock, Lexie. They are not strong enough. No self-respecting farmer would allow a woman to pull a calf or geld a stallion.”

  “I don’t think you do understand how I feel.” Lexie’s fingers tightened in the folds of her skirt.

  “I’ve made the mistake of letting you do as you please. I should have taken you in hand much sooner.”

  “What do you mean?” Lexie’s eyes rounded with concern.

  “I’ve saved some money — for my children,” Eliza said. “For their education. I gave some to Tremaine when he wanted to go to medical school, and I want to do the same for you.”

  Lexie’s heart fluttered. “You’re going to send me to school?” She hardly dared believe her luck. She could apprentice with Dr. Breverman in Portland, one of the finest horse doctors around.

  “I’ve already enrolled you at Miss Everly’s School for Young Ladies in Portland. It’s a very prestigious school and it was hard to find an opening, but—”

  “I won’t go!” Lexie was on her feet, shaking.

  “Lexington,” her mother warned. “Sit down. Miss Everly’s school is one of the finest on the coast, if not the finest.”

  “I know what kind of school it is. It’s for rich girls who want rich husbands! Well, I don’t want that. I’ve got everything I need right here in Rock Springs.”

  “That’s enough.”

  The tone of her mother’s voice stopped Lexie short. But it didn’t cool her panic. “Mother, please,” she said desperately. “I can’t go to that school. If I can’t be a horse doctor, I want to stay here. With you and Pa.”

  Eliza sighed. “What kind of prospects would you have in Rock Springs?”

  “Prospects? You mean marriage?” Lexie’s thoughts flew to Jace. “There are lots of young men in Rock Springs.”

  “Like Jason Garrett?” Eliza turned to peer closely into her daughter’s eyes.

  Lexie couldn’t hide her surprise. The secret she’d thought so zealously guarded was known to one and all! Tremaine had told after all. She been wrong to think he would honorably keep her secret. There was nothing for it but to confess now. “I love Jason Garrett,” Lexie said in a trembling voice. “I won’t go to that school.”

  Eliza crossed her arms and looked down her aristocratic nose. Her dress was cream satin, her figure only slightly rounded after four children, her bustline and décolletage still smooth and firm. Lexie had always been a bit in awe of her youthful mother, and now, with drips of water running from her limp hair onto her shoulders, her clothes in a sorry state of neglect, her bare feet cold against the thick, flower-patterned parlor rug, Lexie felt completely stripped of feminine armor.

  “One year, Lexie, that’s all I ask,” her mother said. “You need this, and I need it for you. I feel I failed you somehow.”

  “No, Mother, you didn’t—”

  “You will start at Miss Everly’s School this September. Rock Springs will still be here when you get back. And if Jason Garrett is the man you think he is, he’ll wait for you. That is all.”

  Lexie was speechless. Inside, her chest tightened, filling up with disbelief and anger. Her future was already decided. She had no say in her own life, none at all!

  Lifting her chin with as much dignity as she could muster, she squared her shoulders and marched out of the room, her bare feet pounding with injustice on the carpeted steps. Tears formed in the corners of her eyes, tears of hurt and betrayal. No one cared what she wanted. No one cared what mattered to her. She was a woman and women had to act in a certain, specified way.

  She ran the last few yards to her room, slamming the door behind her and flinging herself across the bed. It was so unfair! She’d worked long and hard with Pa, had done more for the livestock than her four brothers put together. She’d welcomed the responsibility of taking over the stables and had groomed and cared for the horses with the love and understanding that came from the heart. Yet her sex decreed that she be a lady.

  In a surge of rage Lexie pulled open her dresser drawer and yanked on a clean pair of cotton socks. Flinging open her closet, she grabbed her boots and shoved her feet into them. She would go to Jace. They couldn’t stop her. They could send her away, but they would never destroy the love she shared with Jason Garrett.

  With a total disregard for protocol, Lexie ran down the stairs slammed out the front door, and strode bareheaded through the rain to the stables. The top half of the Dutch door was already open and, seeing her, Lexie’s black horse, Tantrum, whinnied expectantly.

  “Hi, sugar,” she whispered, opening the bottom half of the door. “Let’s go for a ride, all right?”

  But then Lexie stopped, remembering Matilda.

  Distractedly, she rubbed Tantrum’s head. From where she stood she could see the barn was dark; her father had taken the lantern and left. Matilda was alone.

  “I’ll be back,” she whispered to Tantrum, slipping past him to the interior of the stables. Near the back of the tack room, against the far wall, stood an iron-banded chest, dust-covered and forgotten. Lexie glanced around and listened. The only noises were the snuffling and shifting feet of the horses.

  Lifting the lid of the chest, Lexie pulled out a bottle of carbolic acid and a small coil of catgut. Groping along the bottom with her fingers, she found a small knife, a pair of sewing scissors, and the embroidery needle, stuck in a pink satin pincushion, which she’d pilfered from her mother. Several rags and bandana
s were folded in another corner, and Lexie reached deeper, drawing out a box of matches and a blue bandana. No one knew about her private hold; no one ever bothered to look in the dusty chest.

  And no one, besides Harrison, knew that Lexie had stitched up minor cuts on the horses, either.

  She gathered up all her equipment in a blue bandana, grabbed a lantern from the hook on the support beam and a rope from the tack room, checked outside to see if anyone was around, then headed at a fast pace through the now misting rain toward the barn.

  It was dim inside, the afternoon’s gloom shadowing the far corners. Lexie walked quickly to Matilda’s stall. The Jersey’s head was hanging to her knees.

  “Hollow horn, my eye,” Lexie muttered, lighting the lantern and affixing it to a post. The cow’s system had been poisoned with infection.

  The several hours Lexie had been gone had made a good deal of difference in Matilda’s condition. Now her leg showed definite signs of swelling, the hide around the injury taut and dull. Should she wait and show this evidence of Meechum’s ineptitude to Pa? It would certainly be sweet revenge.

  No. Lexie’s stubborn pride wouldn’t let her. Besides, chances were that Pa wouldn’t allow her to drain the wound, even if he admitted she was right. He would send for Meechum, sure as shooting. She couldn’t take that chance.

  Looping the rope around Matilda’s head, Lexie tied her fast to the top rail, keeping her deadly horns out of reach. Next she wetted the bandana with carbolic acid and scrubbed Matilda’s leg. The Jersey was too dejected to notice. A bad sign, Lexie thought, but it certainly made her job easier.

  She doused the knife with carbolic acid, then poised it over the swollen muscle, taking a deep breath.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Tremaine’s angry voice demanded from somewhere behind her head.

  Chapter Two

  Lexie gasped in surprise. The knife slipped from her fingers, clattered to the floor. She leapt to her feet, seeing Tremaine emerge from the shadows, his expression forbidding.