“I used to be faster than you,” she reminded him.
“Oh, I’m sure I’d still have a hard time catchin’ you,” he said.
Violet smiled. How she still loved to play with Stoney Wrenn!
“And you’ll let me go through the house…and you’ll tell me about all this trespassing nonsense?”
Stoney chuckled. “I promise.”
Violet began wringing her hands. “What will people think?”
“It don’t matter,” he said. “Will ya do it?”
Violet frowned—worried over what the folks in Rattler Rock would think of their schoolteacher running in a footrace. Still, as she gazed up into Stoney’s handsome face—as she glanced at the blood soaking his shirt at one shoulder—she was reminded of just how badly she wanted to please him, how badly she wanted to know his secrets concerning the old Chisolm place.
“All right,” she said. “I’ll do it.”
Stoney clapped his hands together with excitement, tossed his head back for a moment, and laughed.
“But you have to promise to tell me everything…show me everything inside,” she said, wagging an index finger at him.
“I will,” he said. “I promise.”
He reached out, taking her face and chin in one hand and quickly kissing her square on the mouth. He kissed her again—forcing her lips to part—mingling the moisture of his mouth with her own. He broke the seal of their lips briefly—long enough to whisper, “It’s gonna be great!” He kissed her a third time and then pulled away to look at her.
“It’s time someone fed that Hagen boy a piece of humble pie,” he said as Violet struggled to catch her breath. “He’s too careless with the tender hearts of the girls around here. Maybe this’ll slow him down a bit.”
“Wh-what do you mean?” Violet asked, thinking Stoney Wrenn wasn’t too awfully careful with tender hearts either. Stoney still held her face in his hand; his head was still bent toward hers. She could feel his breath on her mouth as he spoke. She wanted to throw her arms around his neck and taste his kiss again—the kiss that had left such a delicious flavor in her mouth—a flavor she still savored.
“If Rattler Rock thinks I’m a womanizer…well, this town ain’t seen nothin’ ’til it knows what Hagen Webster’s been up to,” he said, releasing her face and stepping back from her. “He’s coaxed about every girl between the age of fourteen and twenty out there to the old Chisolm place for some sparkin’. Every girl except Maya Asbury…least the way I count it.”
Violet gasped. “Really?”
“Yep,” Stoney said, still smiling. “And I can’t wait to see him cut down a length or two.”
“But what if I can’t beat him in the race?” she asked, her mouth watering for want of another kiss from him. Her heart still hammered, but he looked completely unaffected. He’d kissed her because he’d been glad she’d agreed to enter the race. Yet his kiss had been so intimate—so consuming—even for its brevity. Violet didn’t know whether to be happy or miserable over such a kiss.
Stoney shrugged. “At least with you runnin’ against him, there’s hope.” She must’ve frowned, for he asked, “What’s the matter? You all right?”
“I’m fine,” she lied. “I was just thinking that…that…”
“That what?”
“That it would be gratifying to win,” she lied. She’d really been thinking that she was insane—insane because she had such thoroughly obsessive feelings toward a man she’d known less than a week.
“You’ll win,” he said. He whistled, and the bay raised its head and started toward its master. “And then I’ll tell you all about that damn house. I promise.”
Violet nodded and watched him mount the bay.
He smiled at her, his eyes flashing in the falling darkness. “We had us some fun…didn’t we, Viola?” he asked.
“Yes. We did,” she said.
“You have yerself a good day, Miss Fynne.”
“Thank you,” was all she could manage as response.
“Get on, boy!” Stoney said.
Violet watched the horse and rider disappear in a cloud of dust. She placed trembling fingers to her lips, for they still tingled with the sense of Stoney Wrenn’s kiss. She hadn’t struggled when he’d tried to kiss her, and although she had been astonished by the intimate nature of his kiss, she hadn’t denied herself the pleasure of returning it. Frowning, Violet tried not to cry.
If Stoney Wrenn was a womanizer, then what was she?
Chapter Eight
As Violet’s first week back in Rattler Rock waned, she found herself greatly unsettled. She startled easily—felt a frown puckering her brow more often than she would’ve liked. Although she wore a happy countenance when teaching the children or Jimmy Ritter, her innards were constantly stirred.
At first, she thought it was the anxious anticipation of the Founders’ Day picnic and the footrace she’d promised Stoney Wrenn she’d enter. Then she wondered if her lack of serenity was the fact that she now viewed Hagen Webster with curious disapproval. She was so very aware of things she had not been aware of before in regard to him. As Violet observed Hagen more closely, she found that the older girls did indeed seem to own some sort of delight mingled with scorn where he was concerned. Also, there was the way Dayton tended to listen to whatever Hagen suggested—to act on his friend’s decisions instead of his own—as if he owned some secret admiration of Hagen. Maya seemed immune to Hagen’s charm and prowess where flirting was concerned. Violet liked her all the more for it too.
Still, in the end, and in the truthful depths of her heart, Violet knew exactly why her innards were forever stirred—why she felt jittery and unsettled. Each time she would consider her state of unrest—no matter what excuses her mind tried to offer her heart—she knew Stoney Wrenn was the reason. Her very core was in a state of chaos, and it was all for the sake of Stoney Wrenn.
Violet spent hours in painful, confused contemplation. She’d loved Stoney when they were children; she’d always known she had loved him. Certainly she knew her young heart had owned an intense adoration, a loving sense far beyond mere infatuation. In this, she even understood why she should even yet adore him. Still, the feelings so powerful and alive in her now moved far beyond adoration and infatuation, and Violet could find nothing rational in them. She was in love with Stoney Wrenn—truly in love with him—as a woman loved and obsessed over a lover or husband. Yet how could she be in love with him? She’d been back in Rattler Rock less than two weeks, and in this she felt it was impossible to be so thoroughly and painfully in love—with anyone! But when she was being fully honest with herself, when she was alone in her little house near town, she knew she was in love with him.
She came to realize that her love for Stoney Wrenn was the thing keeping her so terribly unsettled. She thought of nothing else, even while teaching or reading or walking or eating. Always Stoney Wrenn dominated her thoughts and emotions. Once she even blushed while sitting at her desk in the schoolroom. The children had been going over their individual reading lessons in silence while she worked on future lessons for them. Sitting at her desk, the sudden memory—the actual sensational effect—of Stoney Wrenn’s last kiss set her cheeks to pinking. Susan Gribbs had noticed and asked aloud if Violet were feeling all right, for her cheeks were “as red as the tomatoes in my mama’s garden,” Susan had said.
Each time Violet thought of Stoney—of his warm, moist, and demanding kiss—she felt her cheeks pink—felt overly warm and as if a swarm of butterflies were fluttering about in her stomach. None of this could Violet seem to settle in her mind. Her mature, lucid self was constantly reminding her that no woman could love a man she’d only known for a week. Yet her heart told her she’d known Stoney Wrenn much longer. Whether or not they’d been parted for nearly half their lives, she had known him the full length of hers.
Thus, Violet remained in a constant state of unrest all through the week preceding the Founders’ Day picnic. She thought she hid her silent tur
bulence well. Stoney Wrenn himself did not seem to sense it on the few occasions Violet saw him during the week. They’d spoken for quite some time standing outside the jailhouse, having met when Stoney was arriving to talk with Coby Fisher and Violet just passing on her way home after school. Violet saw him riding home one evening. He’d reined in before her little house and spoken with her—asked if she were still enjoying the children at school now that she’d been teaching them for more than a week. He had not tried to kiss her again, however. Of course, there had been no opportunity, for each time they met, it was in some place with other people milling around in some manner. How she longed to be alone with him, talk with him, just linger in his presence. Yet there came no opportunity, and the second week waned.
It was Friday afternoon, and Jimmy Ritter sat on the porch steps of Violet’s house enjoying the cookies Violet had just taken from the oven. It was in this moment that Violet—having thought no one was aware of the preoccupation of her mind and heart—discovered she was wrong.
“I cannot believe how fast you’re progressing, Jimmy,” Violet said—and it was true. In a mere two weeks, Jimmy had thoroughly absorbed so many concepts of reading. Violet was amazed at his ability to retain the lessons.
Jimmy smiled and shrugged. “Well, once I put my mind to somethin’, I like to get it done and move on to the next chore,” he said.
Violet smiled. “Well, that’s a good piece to have in your character.”
“Stoney taught me that,” he said.
“Then he’s a better teacher than I am,” Violet said. She sighed. “I tend to be easily distracted. I get tired of one thing and simply move on to the next. I can’t tell you how many things I’ve left unfinished.”
“But ya didn’t leave Stoney unfinished…did ya, Miss Fynne?”
Violet felt her heart begin to pound. What did Jimmy mean? What did he know?
“What do you mean, Jimmy?” she asked.
He seemed to pause—brushed the cookie crumbs from the front of his shirt. “It was before you come back,” he began. “A year or so ago…while me and Stoney was sittin’ around a fire after brandin’. We’d finished with the heifers a little earlier than we expected, so we was just sittin’ around talkin’ about life. That was when Stoney told me about his pa beatin’ on him. He told me everything—about his pa, about Mr. Chisolm…and about you.”
“What did he tell you about me?” Violet asked. Her heart hammered with some sort of strange anxiety. A deep sense of foreboding began to wash over her, yet she waited. She wanted to know what Stoney had told Jimmy—she needed to know.
Jimmy looked at her, his gaze rather severe. “He told me what great friends the two of you were,” he answered. “He told me all about the trouble ya used to find together. He said the two of you thought nothin’ could keep ya apart…that all ya ever wanted was to grow up together…be together yer whole lives.”
Violet winced, for it was true. Unspoken perhaps, but it was the way she’d always felt then—that the only thing she wanted in life was to be with Stoney forever. “It’s true,” she whispered.
“That’s what Stoney said,” Jimmy continued. “He said he thought he’d drop dead when you moved…whether from his pa’s beatin’s or from a broken heart. He thought sure he’d drop dead. But he didn’t. He didn’t because you’d promised him you’d come back one day. Oh, he didn’t really believe it. He knew you was a kid and didn’t have yer own means and such. But he said it was the hope you’d find a way that kept him goin’ for them first few years while his pa was still beatin’ on him and all.”
Somehow Violet managed to will her tears to stay in her eyes—kept them from escaping to trail over her cheeks. Yet Jimmy’s story was not the same one Stoney had told her.
“Stoney told me he was fine,” she said. “He told me his daddy quit beatin’ on him right after my family left Rattler Rock. He said he was all right.”
Jimmy paused and seemed to be considering whether or not he should continue. Then he said, “He weren’t all right, Miss Fynne.”
“What do you mean, Jimmy?” she asked. A strong sense of foreboding, a fear of owning Jimmy’s knowledge, began to sift through her.
“His pa beat him somethin’ awful,” Jimmy answered.
“I remember,” she said. “I remember, and it pains me every day of my life. But…but at least he stopped when—”
“His pa never stopped beatin’ him, Miss Violet,” Jimmy interrupted. “Stoney ran away.”
“What?” Violet breathed. “But he said—”
“Stoney says a lot of things…when he don’t want people diggin’ in his business.” Jimmy shrugged and continued. “I figure it’s how he keeps calm and still, ya know? Instead of gettin’ all tore up or hurt, he just don’t tell folks things. He’d probably give me a hollerin’ if he knew I was tellin’ you.”
“Give you a hollering?” Violet asked.
Jimmy nodded. “He’d never lay a hand on me—never did and never will, no matter what kind of trouble I get into,” he said. “But he can sure raise his voice.”
“You say he ran away,” Violet began. “When?”
“When he was, oh, sixteen, I guess,” Jimmy said. “His pa had at him good…and Stoney decided he was old enough to go. So he run off. Cowboyed for about two, three years. Then he come back and went to work for ol’ Buddy Chisolm. He even lived in the ol’ Chisolm place awhile. Old Bud let Stoney live there—ghosts and all—fer free, providin’ he looked after the place and didn’t bother the ghosts none. Then when Buddy Chisolm passed, a fancy lawyer from over in Texas showed up. Said Bud had left a will, left everything to Stoney. Bud never had no kids of his own. Guess he got to thinkin’ of Stoney as his boy instead…and that’s how Stoney got hold of all of that land and them houses, including the haunted one.” Violet watched as Jimmy ate another cookie. “He’s done good by it too. Made himself a wagonload of money off crops and stock and such.”
“He told me his daddy quit beatin’ on him,” Violet said.
“Why would he tell ya different?” Jimmy asked. “It wouldn’t do nothin’ but make ya feel bad again for leavin’.”
“I-I guess you’re right,” Violet whispered. Renewed guilt washed over her disappointment in herself—disappointment that she hadn’t seen through Stoney’s keeping the truth from her. She should’ve seen it.
“He keeps yer photograph, ya know.”
“What?” Violet asked.
Jimmy nodded. “I seen it in his drawer. He keeps it there…and there’s a letter with it. I always figured the letter was from you, bein’ it’s with yer photograph and all.”
Violet felt the tears increasing in her eyes. Part of her heart experienced joy—comfort in the knowledge Stoney truly hadn’t forgotten her as easily as she’d thought. Yet another part of her heart—the deepest, most tender part—felt worse than ever.
“Why are you telling me this, Jimmy?” Violet asked. “It’s…it’s not something a person starts talking about for the sake of conversation.”
Jimmy dropped his gaze to the ground and nodded. “I’m tellin’ you because Stoney Wrenn has been the only father I ever knew…or at least the only big brother I ever knew,” he said. “He took care of me when nobody else woulda wanted to. He taught me a mountain about life and a lick or two about stock and land and hard work.” He paused, his eyes narrowing as he looked to Violet. “And I want to see him rewarded with a good life…with knowin’ he’s a good man.”
“Well, surely he knows he’s a good man,” Violet said. “Everyone in town likes him. Every woman in town nearly swoons when he passes. How can he not know he’s a good man?”
“Oh, but you already know why, don’t ya, Miss Fynne?” Jimmy asked. He grinned a little. “You know Stoney Wrenn better than anybody—even me—don’t ya? Don’t matter how much I respect him, don’t matter how much ol’ Buddy Chisolm told Stoney he was a great feller, Stoney Wrenn don’t think it’s so. Maybe he’s just awful humble. Maybe he’s just plain
ignorant. But, you and me, we both know it’s probably ’cause his pa was such a mean ol’ son of a…gun. And the fact people gossip somethin’ awful about him…callin’ him a womanizer and all. It’s the only reason he’s even thinkin’ on Layla Asbury. He told me that settlin’ in with her might stop all the talkin’.”
Violet brushed a tear from her cheek. She placed a hand to calm the sickened feeling in her stomach, the sensation of nausea that had begun to churn when Jimmy spoke of Stoney’s considering settling with Layla Asbury.
“I still don’t understand why you’re telling me—”
“Yes, ya do, Miss Fynne,” he interrupted. “You know exactly why I’m tellin’ you. I’m tellin’ you because you can turn Stoney’s head.”
“What?” Violet asked. Her heart was beating faster, for her heart began to understand. Yet her sense of reason could not accept.
“Stoney’s thinkin’ about nailin’ himself down to that Asbury girl,” Jimmy said. “You know it…and I know it…and we both know it ain’t right.”
Violet paused—uncertain as to how much of her own thoughts she should reveal to the boy. “He’s very handsome…and he’s owns a great deal of property,” Violet mumbled. “He’s the sort most girls would do anything to end up with.”
Jimmy smiled. “Ya see? I know ya knew it. I think Stoney knows it too. It’s just that everyone in town has been naggin’ him to settle down for so long and all…” Jimmy paused and grinned at Violet again. “But you could turn his head. Fact, you already done it.”
The Light of the Lovers' Moon Page 14