by J. T. Marie
I don’t know what he’s talking about. “Who?” I venture.
He doesn’t answer. Instead, he pulls the ledger over and opens it up again, one fat finger trailing down a list he’s written on one of the pages. “There’s a lot to get done before the big day,” he says, obviously thinking out loud. Did he dismiss me and I didn’t realize it? Should I go? He keeps talking, so I can’t butt in and ask. “She’ll need a dress, of course. I know I was hassling her, but now that she’s made up her mind, this all seems to be happening so fast. How’s a late summer wedding sound? Something in late September, maybe, before the last roundup?”
I glance around. Is he talking to me?
When I look back, his gaze is fixed on me, his eyes wide, expectant. “Well?”
“Um…” I don’t know what he expects from me. “I guess that sounds nice?”
He grunts. “Of course it does. You don’t care one way or the other, do you?”
“September’s fine,” I say, more firmly this time. Who’s getting married?
Then it hits me—Miss Lucille. My mouth dries up and my throat closes. Did Charlie come calling yesterday? I haven’t seen him since Saturday, so it’s possible he ran out here when he heard Boss Daddy was back and asked for her hand. That’s a bit presumptuous of him, and I can’t imagine Miss Lucille would approve.
Carefully, I ask, “Is this your daughter’s wedding we’re talking about?”
Boss Daddy gives me a strange look. “Of course it is. Who else are you marrying?”
“Wait. What?” I cock my head to one side—did I hear him right? “I’m not marrying anyone. It’s Miss Lucille’s wedding you’re planning in September, right?”
“Who do you think she’s marrying, then?” The hint of a smile played around the edges of Boss Daddy’s mouth.
“I don’t know,” I admit. “I didn’t—I mean, not me. I never…at least, I don’t think—”
“Why would I call you in here if it wasn’t you she wanted to marry?” Boss Daddy sets the ledger aside again and looks at me sympathetically. “Have you two not discussed this?”
“No!” I shake my head for emphasis, and the word comes out louder than I intended. Lowering my voice, I tell him, “Look, sir, she never said anything about wanting to marry me. I mean, we talked about it, a little, but not along the lines of me and her…we kissed, but that was it.”
A slow smile spreads across his beefy face. “Well, better get used to it, son,” he drawled. “That woman always gets what she wants. And what she wants right now is you.”
Chapter 24
This can’t be happening. I need to talk with Miss Lucille.
Boss Daddy must see something funny in my stricken expression, because his grin widens. “Welcome to the family, son. Not my first choice, but she could’ve done worse.”
He means me. “I…I can’t—” I rein in my whirling thoughts. “I have to talk with Lucy.”
This earns me a laugh. “Ho-oh! So it’s Lucy now, is it?” His eyes twinkle with mirth the same way hers do.
I hurry to correct myself. “No, I mean Miss Lucille. I need to…we can’t…is she here?”
“I reckon she’s upstairs.” When he leans back in his chair, his whole body seems to expand like a frog puffing up. “Go on and wait in the parlor. I’ll send for her. I’m sure you two have a lot to hammer out before September.”
The wedding. God. We have a lot to talk about, true, and one of the first things we need to get straight is the fact that there isn’t going to be a wedding at all—late summer, early fall, or otherwise!
I retire to the parlor and sit perched on the edge of the divan. The paneled walls are white-washed, the paint thickest near the baseboards, and heavy, intricate rugs cover the floor. The divan is nothing more than a loveseat with an ornate design etched into the back; a matching sofa faces it across the room. To my right is a huge fireplace, its maw dark and empty, a large mirror above the mantle hung at an angle so I can just see the top of my head in the lower corner of its reflection. I sit up straighter, trying to catch a glimpse of my face—I feel dazed and shocked, and I’m sure my skin is pale, my eyes scared. How the hell did it come to this? What did I say or do Saturday that could’ve possibly been construed as a proposal of any type?
As I’m looking in the mirror, I see the parlor door open in its reflection and in walks Miss Lucille. No, walk isn’t the right word—she flounces into the room, skirts swirling, arms outstretched, a comic frown on her face. “Oh, Nat, I’m so sorry!” she cries. I stand to greet her, only to find my arms suddenly full as she flings herself at me. “I told Daddy to let me talk to you first! He’s ruined everything!”
I want to comfort her, but I’m all too aware of the servants who have entered the parlor after her. A man leans back against the wall by the door, gaze fixed firmly somewhere above my head, while a woman dressed in a maid’s outfit starts to surreptitiously dust the furniture. I pat Miss Lucille on the back, careful to keep my hands in sight at all times, my arms rigid, my body unyielding. “What’s this all about, anyway?” I ask softly.
Miss Lucille pulls back from me and dabs the corner of her eye with a lacy handkerchief. “Daddy didn’t tell you? He said you were a little upset about the wedding…”
Upset? Upset? I catch her upper arms firmly and resist the urge to shake her. “Miss Lucille—”
“Lucy,” she corrects. When I glance at the maid nearby, Miss Lucille laughs. “Oh, don’t mind them. You’ll get used to the help after a while. Daddy said you can move in now, if you’d like. Not out in the bunkhouse but here, upstairs. Not with me, silly, not yet, but—”
“Lucy, stop.” I squeeze her arms to get her attention. “I’m not moving in here, okay? There is going to be no wedding. I can’t marry you.”
Now her eyes well up with tears again, and she looks so lost and alone, I have to fight the urge to apologize. I didn’t mean, I take it back, whatever you want, just don’t cry…
I bite the inside of my lower lip to keep quiet.
After a long moment, she sniffles. “But…but Nat, you said you weren’t betrothed—”
“I’m not,” I assure her. “And that means not to you, either. I can’t—”
“But you’re not interested in Maddy,” she says. I nod, yes, that’s true. “And Miss Barbour is too old—you agreed I was the only eligible lady in Junction.”
“To be honest, I can’t rightly remember exactly what all I said to you the other day,” I admit. “But I know I didn’t ask you to marry me. I’m pretty sure I didn’t.”
Miss Lucille frowns, unconvinced. “But that kiss…you can’t go around kissing a girl like that and not mean nothing by it.”
The maid has moved closer, and I see her shooting quick looks our way, obviously listening in. Lowering my voice, I sit down on the divan and guide Miss Lucille down beside me. I look at her earnestly, hoping she’s listening. “Lucy, I’m…I’m sorry, but I can’t marry you.”
“But why not?” Her lower lip trembles as if she’s going to cry. “Don’t you like me, Nat Allen?”
Of course I like her, probably more than I should, but I don’t want to tell her that. Not when she has her heart set on a September wedding. I hesitate, unsure how to respond. I don’t want to lie, but I don’t want to encourage her, either.
My silence says everything I can’t, and her pretty lips curve up in a triumphant grin. “I knew it! You like me, you said you did, and this proves it. You can’t tell me you don’t.”
Trying a different approach, I point out, “We don’t really know each other.”
She shakes her head to brush aside my argument. “But we do. Maybe we just started talking this past week, but I’ve had my eye on you ever since you came here looking for work. I think we’d be great together, Nat, I really do. The more we’ve gotten to know each other, the more I realize you’re the one I want beside me in years to come.”
I don’t know what to say. Glancing at the maid, I lower my voice to a whisp
er. “Can’t we go somewhere a little more private where we can talk about this?”
“There’s nothing to talk about,” Miss Lucille says brightly. “I love you, Nat, I do. And I see in your eyes you feel the same way. Daddy was most likely teasing when he asked if any suitors called on me while he was away, and you should’ve seen the look on his face when I told him I was marrying you.”
I can’t seem to wrap my mind around her willful disregard of the facts. “But I never asked you to marry me.”
She shrugs as if that isn’t such a big deal. “If you want to be so formal about it, ask me now. Or I’ll ask you. It doesn’t really matter all that much in the end. There’s too much else to do before the wedding.”
“Lucy, listen to me.” I grab her hands in both of mine and hold them to my chest. She looks up at me, expectant. Gently, I say again, “I can’t marry you. I simply cannot.”
Her smile barely dims, then she pulls one hand free and cups my cheek. “Oh, don’t worry so much about it,” she says, leaning in to plant a quick kiss in the corner of my mouth. “All this fuss will be over before you know it. Daddy says you can move into one of the empty rooms in his wing before the wedding, and you can have any job on the ranch you want. Everything will be perfect, you’ll see.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell her my secret—you can’t marry another woman, they won’t let you—but the maid is hovering too close now, I know she’ll overhear, and Miss Lucille may be used to speaking plainly in front of the staff, but I don’t want everyone to know what I’ve been hiding all this time. Already I’m trying to mentally calculate how much money I have stashed away at Miss Barbour’s. Is it enough to get me a ticket on the next train out of Junction?
I hate to leave, but Miss Lucille won’t listen to me. We can’t marry! I don’t know how to call off the wedding without losing my job, and I’d never be able to show my face around Boss Daddy’s holdings again.
Why won’t she listen to me? “We can’t,” I try one last time, lamely.
She kisses me a second time and murmurs against my lips, “We can. You’ll see.”
Chapter 25
I don’t really get a chance to talk with her, not with the servants around, but when I try to suggest we go someplace where we could talk, Miss Lucille laughs off my concern. “Oh, Nat, there’s so much to get done before the wedding!” she says, her voice light and airy. “Nana’s coming with me to town so I can order fabric for the dresses, and you’ll need a new suit, too, and I need to talk with Father McConnell…September will be here before you know it!”
I try one last time. “But, Lucy—”
She kisses me quiet. “No buts now, mister. You have work to do, and now so do I. Daddy said he wanted you back when I was through, so you better go see what he wants now.”
This isn’t happening. It isn’t real. I wander off down the hall after Miss Lucille, who bounces ahead with a sizzling energy that threatens to engulf me completely. She doesn’t care I didn’t actually propose. How did she put it? Or I’ll ask you, which tells me the wedding will go on as planned with or without my consent.
We can’t marry, simple as that. Once she finds out the truth, she’ll understand why. But my time here in Junction is over. There’s no way I can continue to live here under a man’s name, in a man’s guise, and not marry her. I wouldn’t be able to work for her father, who owns everything in Junction and for miles around. I wouldn’t be able to face Miss Lucille, either. I’d live in fear of her saying something—not vindictively, I don’t think, but at some time, something may slip out.
Or maybe she would tell someone. Boss Daddy, perhaps. He’d want to know why I wouldn’t want to marry his daughter. She’d have to tell him the real reason…
No, I need to leave. Now. Tonight.
Once my mind is made up, I breathe a little easier. Then I stop in mid-step, a few feet from Boss Daddy’s study. I can’t leave tonight; I’ll have to wait for the next train, which will come through on Wednesday. Two days’ time. I could still talk to Miss Lucille before then…
And accomplish what, exactly?
Well, at least I could tell her I’m leaving. It’d be better than just running out on her.
But better how? Miss Lucille is used to getting her way. She wants to marry me and so she will, regardless of my thoughts on the matter. The fact that I care for her only makes this all the more worse. If I were a man, I would marry her in a second; I’d sweep her up in my arms and rush down to the chapel today. I would love to spend the rest of my life with her.
Which makes this hurt all the more.
As I stand in the hallway lost in thought, Boss Daddy’s shadow graces his door, then a moment later, he stops when he sees me. “My God, son! Don’t scare a man like that!” he bellows, one hand flying to the front of his double-breasted suit jacket. “What’d I tell you about lingering in the hall?”
I open my mouth to apologize, but he waves me off. “Never mind. Walk with me, will you? Let me show you around the place.”
“Um, shouldn’t I get back to work?” I prompt. Anything to get me out of the house, away from Boss Daddy and Miss Lucille, away from all this nonsense and craziness. Out in the field, where I can lose myself in mindless labor and forget I’m now engaged.
Me, engaged. Holy hell.
But Boss Daddy has other plans. “Chavez’ll get someone to fill in for you,” he says, dismissive. One meaty hand clamps onto my shoulder, pinning me in place. “If you’re going to take over all this someday, you should maybe start getting a feel for how it all works.”
Cautiously, I ask, “Isn’t Miss Lucille the one who keeps things running?”
“Like clockwork!” He laughed, a booming sound that echoed down the hallway, and clapped me hard on the back. “But pay attention. After the wedding, you’re going to be working in here with me. No son-in-law of mine will be a ranch hand on my own damn spread.”
No worries about that, I think as he leads me away, already rambling about the finer aspects of the ranching business. I’m not going to be your son-in-law, anyway.
Even if we did marry. Which we aren’t going to do. I’d rather leave Miss Lucille pining for the one who got away after I leave than hating me for the rest of her life once she finds out I’m a woman, too.
Chapter 26
When I came to work at the ranch, I was given a tour then, too, but it was Chavez who led me around, and only to the places I needed to know for the job I was hired to do. The bunkhouse, the barn, the creek where the men bathed, and a quick ride on horseback around the perimeter of the property, which took a full two days. We camped out in one of the small shacks scattered around the ranch for that purpose—whenever a cowboy needs to stay out overnight, he bunks down out in the field instead of riding back to the main house. The shacks sleep four comfortably, and it was just the two of us, Chavez and me. We slept in what we wore that day, he on one side of the room, me on the other. It was easier to hide my body from him than it would’ve been in a bunkhouse full of men, which was why the first thing I did when we rode back in was rent a room at Miss Barbour’s.
Boss Daddy’s tour isn’t quite as extensive as Chavez’s was. In fact, we don’t even leave the main house. Instead, I trail behind him through rooms I’ve never been in before, rooms whose doors are usually kept shut and locked. I’m shown files and ledgers and records, the detailed inner workings of the ranch, all carefully written out in Miss Lucille’s pretty script. Every time I asked a question—what’s this mean, or why’s it done like that, or where’s this go—the answer is usually the same. “You’ll have to ask Lucy,” Boss Daddy keeps telling me. “She really has a handle on all this. I’d be lost without her.”
It’s a pity she can’t be recognized for her business sense, but that’s the way of the world, isn’t it? That’s why I wear dungarees instead of dresses—women can’t live or work as they choose. Or love, either. Miss Lucille may think she loves me, and I know for a fact I love her, too. But once she re
alizes what I really am, she’ll have to find someone else to marry. Someone who’ll let her continue running things here at the ranch like she’s used to doing. Someone who won’t try to step in and take her place in her father’s business. Who might someday provide an heir to take over the cattle empire Boss Daddy created.
Where she’ll find that someone, I don’t know. It’s too bad I can’t marry her. We’d be a perfect match, since I’d let her do whatever her heart desires, and I already know I’ll love her until the day I die.
Somewhere in the bowels of the house, a clock chimes each hour as it passes. Soon we’re back in Boss Daddy’s study, he back to scribbling in his ledger, me seated in front of his desk waiting to be dismissed. A servant knocks on the open door and says simply, “Dinner, sir.”
I’m more than a little surprised when Boss Daddy replies, “Set a place for Nat, will you? He’ll be dining with us tonight.”
I want to beg off, but I know I can’t. We head to the dining room together, him a few steps ahead of me, the way he’s been all day. When we get there, the ladies are already seated around the table, Nana on one side and Miss Lucille at the head, where she sat Friday evening. Boss Daddy takes the chair at the other end of the table, leaving me the empty space across from Nana. Miss Lucille beams at me as I sit. “Is Daddy boring you yet, Nat?” she asks sweetly.
“I wouldn’t say boring exactly,” I venture, giving her a look I hope says, we really need to talk in private.
If she notices the look, she doesn’t say anything. Her smile widens as she launches into a detailed description of her ride into Junction—the fabric swatches she looked through at the general store, how long it’ll take for the material to arrive once it’s ordered, how things went at the chapel. I concentrate on my dinner and try to tune her out, which is difficult to do because she punctuates every couple sentences with, “What do you think, Nat?”
I don’t know what to think, so I sort of shrug and nod at the same time. “Sounds good.”