Western Winds

by Raine Cantrell

  “It’s no blushing virgin you roped and tied down. What do you want from me, pretense?”

  “Keep your word,” he warned. “You did say you would be the perfect wife in company. I guess I forgot to ask or have you spell out whose idea of a wife you’d play.”

  She tensed at his barb while he guided the horse past the livery. The goading had to stop, but Lacey could not help herself. “I’m not your wife yet.”

  “But the time draws close. It’s like breaking a wild filly. A man knows when to shorten the rope till she moves easy under his hand.”

  Lacey’s neck bent in defeat for a moment. She gazed at the bunting that hung from every available corner of the weathered buildings as they turned onto the main street. Wagons, buckboards, horses of every size and color, mules, and even a few team of oxen crowded this end of town. She knew that people from nearby had used every available means to attend this shindig, one of many held statewide. Ranchers, farmers, shopkeepers, their families and workers—no one would have missed this. The celebrating would go on long into the night, perhaps even until tomorrow, as it had last year, and there would be more than a few fights between men as they drank hard liquor and gambled at the saloons. Lacey wished she could talk Rafe into leaving once the ceremony was over, but she wanted to avoid being alone with him at home.

  Rafe continued down the main street. Two saloons and a cantina farther down blared forth tinny music, men’s laughter, and the accompanying high-pitched giggles of women. Rafe finally stopped before Rebecca Lynn’s restaurant and boardinghouse.

  “Why are we stopping here?” she asked as he set her down and dismounted. “The preacher lives down the other way.”

  “Is that where you thought we would marry? Don’t answer. Rebecca was kind enough to offer her home, and Maggie left early to help her.” He tied the reins to the hitching post and drew alongside her. “There are people waiting inside who are happy about our marriage. Don’t disappoint them out of spite. Give us a chance.”

  Lacey wished she could believe him. She longed to be able to trust him again. She tried to smile, but her stiff lips wouldn’t obey her. Without another attempt to talk Rafe led her directly around to the back of the house, down the dimly lit hall, and into a small, gracefully furnished sitting room. She was reassured to find it empty. She needed a bit of time to herself. The familiar furnishings of Rebecca’s room gave her confidence that nothing had changed—only her mind persisted in telling her that everything had.

  “Before I leave you, Lacey, I need to know…”

  The look in his eyes prompted her answer. “I’m not changing my mind, if that’s what’s worrying you.”

  He gave her a long, searching look, then said, “I love you, Lacey. Don’t ever forget that.”

  He was gone before she thought what to answer.

  Lacey crossed the room, drawn to the whispered voices coming from Rebecca’s bedroom behind the closed door. She heard the excitement in Maggie’s voice and someone’s stifled giggle.

  “She’ll love it, Sadie! A beautiful gown for a lovely bride. But I do wish they would get here.”

  Lacey forced herself to take hold of the doorknob. She plastered a smile on dry lips, and with a deep, steadying breath she walked in.

  Warm sunlight, streaming in through the lace-covered windows, surrounded Lacey along with the happy chattering voices of the three women. Maggie’s enveloping hugs and Rebecca’s good wishes were ended when Sadie Lewis, the town’s only dressmaker, stood up, shaking out the folds of the gown she held.

  “Goodness, I didn’t think I’d get it finished. Rafe will be pleased, but I hope you like his choice as well.”

  “His choice, Sadie?” Lacey stared at her.

  “It was to be a surprise. I guess it is. He asked me to make it for you. Wasn’t a bit over a week ago when he came into town. Morning, if I remember right. He’s so in love with you, Lacey.”

  “Yes. Yes, he is. But you were saying…”

  “Well, I was in a bit of a tizzy. My boy went off and left me to unpack a whole shipment of cloth and trimmings all the way from St. Louis. Rafe stayed to help me, and then we picked out the material and pattern for your gown.”

  Lacey was struck by the fact that if Rafe was in town helping Sadie, then April lied about his spending the night with her. But she couldn’t have known where they made love unless Rafe told her. It was pain she refused to deal with.

  Sadie held the gown against her rail-thin form, her eyes expectant for Lacey’s approval. She frowned and turned to Maggie when it was not forthcoming.

  Coming to her rescue, Maggie took the gown. “Why, I’ll bet she’s flustered with all the excitement. You do like it, honey, don’t you?”

  Lacey couldn’t look at it. “Sadie’s work is always lovely. Maggie’s right. I’m excited and overwhelmed that Rafe—well, it certainly is a surprise to find out he picked my wedding dress.” The last was spoken in a lame voice, and her gaze fled to Maggie, begging help.

  Rebecca was puzzled. “But, Lacey, what did you expect to wear to get married in?” Her sweeping gesture indicated Lacey’s rough clothes. “Surely not those?”

  Lacey nervously smoothed her braid. It was a gesture so unlike her that Maggie quickly ushered her toward the washstand and began giving orders.

  In a trance Lacey stood while they fussed over her. Maggie guided her at the last to Rebecca’s prized possession, a large pier glass.

  Lacey couldn’t look at herself. She stared at the oval wood frame, at the carved legs of the mirror, and then at Maggie’s urging, she forced her gaze upward.

  “Oh, Sadie,” she whispered. Pale, creamy lace surrounded her throat and softly gathered and delicately etched lawn material made up the tightly fitted bodice. Her skin, she noticed, glowed warmly beneath the open work while a satin camisole barely hid the full curve of her breasts peering enticingly over the top. Long fitted sleeves ended at her wrists with a shirred ruffle. The soft, full folds of the satin skirt swayed over a diminished hoop as she slowly turned to their sighs of admiration. Rebecca had cut blazing stars and woven them into a crown of flowers that perched high on the cascading curls Maggie had coaxed in her glowing chestnut hair.

  Sadie came forward, tears glinting in her eyes. “You are a beautiful bride.” Her aged hands trembled a bit as she placed a long matching lace veil over the flowers. She adjusted the material to fall over Lacey’s shoulders and then handed her a bouquet of the wildflowers tied with long streamers of blue ribbon.

  Maggie dismissed the two women to tell everyone that Lacey was ready.

  Lacey dreaded being alone with her. Maggie would not be fooled.

  “I didn’t have anythin’ to give you that’s mine, but I’ve saved this silk hankie that belonged to your mother.”

  “Maggie! I thought Sy had destroyed everything that belonged to her.”

  “Well he did. All ’cept this. It ain’t much, but I’ve been savin’ it for the day you marry.”

  Maggie surprised her by reaching up to pinch her cheeks. “There, now you’ve got color. I ain’t askin’ why your eyes looked terrified when you walked in, but I’m the closest to a mother you’ve had. Don’t sell Rafe short. You’ve got tempers hot enough to singe hell betwixt you, but he loves you. Be happy with him.”

  The full enormity of the step Lacey was taking settled along with a cold knot inside her. Maggie kept talking about love and happiness, the dreams that should be hers, just like they were before. But Rafe had betrayed her trust. How could she remind Maggie of that or that this marriage was a business arrangement?

  She couldn’t love and trust Rafe again … could she?

  Maggie stood, waiting for an answer.

  Fighting the constricting dryness of her throat, Lacey said, “I’ll try, Maggie. That is all I can promise even myself right now.”

 
“Use that damn Garrett pride that Sy instilled in you, even if you ain’t his. Let your pride make this a day to cherish. Make your own happiness. Yours and Rafe’s.”

  Happiness? Was there a chance that she and Rafe could have that? How could they, when the words they used against each other like knife thrusts still bled? Why was she doing this? No land could be worth selling herself for.

  She wanted Rafe as he had been. Joyful and loving, trustworthy. Rafe, who was waiting to make her his wife. Rafe, who said he loved her.

  But Sy Garrett had raised her to know the futility of wishes.

  Chapter 18

  Lacey followed Maggie down the hall to the front parlor. The walls were draped with white bunting gathered into scallops with bunches of greenery and wildflowers. A blur of faces milled about, becoming silent at her entrance.

  Rafe commanded her attention. He was dressed in a superbly fitted black broadcloth suit, shirt ruffles crisp and white against the faint tan of his skin. Her gaze dropped at his smile, and she noticed the gleaming boots, his well-muscled legs, and the gold embroidered vest. He had truly taken Sy Garrett’s place, for the clothes were Sy’s, never worn. Maggie walked ahead of her and joined Rafe at the minister’s side.

  Lacey felt gentle hands taking her elbows on either side. She looked up to see first Bo, then Fletcher. They, too, wore stiff new suits.

  “We both figured it’s our right to give the bride away,” Bo huskily murmured.

  “Yeah,” Fletcher agreed with a catch in his gruff voice. “We’re the ones that seen you growed.”

  Lacey touched each of their weathered cheeks, her eyes misty, memories crowding her.

  “Sy would’ve been proud of you, gal,” Fletcher added.

  Lacey lowered her lashes as someone began to play a soft melody on Rebecca’s spinet. Bitterly she thought of how proud Sy would have been that she had put the Reina first. It was what he had taught her to do.

  They walked her the few steps to Rafe’s side. Lacey braced herself to hear the words that would change her life forever. Listening to Rafe’s strong, clear voice answer the minister, she prayed her own voice would not betray her.

  The ring he slipped on her finger was warm, but Lacey saw it through a haze. She glanced up at Rafe, saw his lips moving, but no sound reached her. There was a somber set to his features, and she was his, to love, to cherish, to obey, to have and to hold, for now and forever. Was there a forever? Had she responded? She must have, for Rafe’s head was descending, his lips lowering to hers.

  He stole her breath with that kiss. It was a lingering, tasting caress that told of ecstasy, possession, and satisfaction. It spoke of a satiated hunger that could flame again at the slightest provocation. Lacey trembled under the impact of it, finding his kiss strangely soothing after the morning’s chaos.

  Catcalls and whistles slowly penetrated Lacey’s dazed state. Rafe lifted his lips, and people were suddenly surrounding them, slapping his back, shaking his hand, a few shyly kissing Lacey’s cheek with their offered good wishes.

  Music blared forth, its tempo lively, and Lacey turned around. Rafe’s hand around her waist steadied her. April, Evan, and Tom Darcy stood barring their way. She was never more sure than at this moment how much April hated her.

  “Rafe,” April murmured, “now you have everything you wanted.”

  “April, I warned you,” Evan grated in a harsh whisper before either Rafe or Lacey responded.

  Tom Darcy smiled, ignored his children, and shook Rafe’s hand. “Don’t mind my gal. She ain’t come out a loser when she sets her mind to havin’ somethin’. But I’ll admit I’m sorry it worked out this way.”

  Lacey thought his look at Rafe implied so much more, but she wasn’t given a chance to hear their conversation, for Evan drew her from Rafe’s side. His body blocked off her view of the three of them.

  “Don’t let April spoil today for you,” he whispered.

  Bewildered, Lacey stood on tiptoe to peer over his shoulder. Her heels hit the polished wood floor the second she saw April kissing Rafe. Evan’s soft “Let me kiss the bride” added to her dismay, since Rafe did nothing to stop April. The light touch of Evan’s lips met her cool, unyielding ones. How could Rafe? She closed her eyes and gave herself almost fiercely, despairingly to the press of Evan’s mouth searching her own. She snapped out of the haze that had held her enthralled, for Evan’s arms were holding her tight, and she knew he was reading more into this kiss than she meant.

  He released her the moment she tensed, and Lacey blindly turned away. She snatched a drink from a tray Rebecca carried and tossed it down, choking on the liquor but needing its warmth. A crowd of well-wishers drew her aside, and she went, desperate to be away from Rafe. She forced herself to nod and smile, hoping that was what people wanted from her, for none of their remarks, none of their insistent questions made sense to her.

  She was almost to the double-door archway, thinking only of escaping, when Curt suddenly appeared, barring her way. His usual immaculate appearance showed the ravages of a hard, dusty ride.

  “I’m too late. I rode out to the ranch, hoping to stop you, Lacey.”

  “Why? It’s a marriage of convenience. We both wanted the Reina, and this seemed the only way to settle the matter. Rafe and I agreed on the terms, and you can see for yourself,” she stated with an airy wave in Rafe’s direction, “he’s not letting marriage interfere.”

  Curt followed her gaze across the room to where Rafe stood off to one side talking with April and several other women. But he also noticed the fierce glitter in Lacey’s eyes when April, with a laugh, rested her hand almost possessively on Rafe’s arm.

  “Are you?” Curt asked, then clarified at her puzzled look. “Prove that marriage doesn’t change anything. Prove it to him and perhaps to yourself. I wanted you for my bride.”

  “I am sorry, Curt. Don’t make a scene here. Please.”

  He took her into his arms, his lips urgent, taking her mouth. The fierceness of his emotions quickly communicated themselves to Lacey. She heard voices rise and then quiet as she firmly pushed Curt away.

  And suddenly Rafe was at her side, his voice harsh and sarcastic to her ear. “If you’re trying to make me jealous, Lacey, don’t bother. But you’re making a sorry spectacle of yourself, my too-new wife. Your promise, remember?”

  He forced her from Curt’s side with a firm arm around her waist that Lacey was sure appeared a loving embrace as she encountered curious gazes. Rafe wore his most forbidding look, which held her quiet, and she wondered if he was jealous. She dismissed the thought. He hadn’t stopped Evan from kissing her.

  Halfway across the room he deposited her like unwanted baggage beside Sadie and the McCord sisters.

  “Our guests need your attention, love.” His fingers squeezed in warning. “I’m sure, my dear little wife, these lovely ladies must be dying to hear how you beguiled me till I had no choice but to marry you.” With a graceful but most mocking bow and a last warning look at Lacey, he left them.

  “My, he certainly is a bold one, isn’t he?” Emma McCord remarked with a wishful gleam in her eyes.

  “He’s dressed the gentleman, but I sense the savage beneath, Emma.” With a delicate shiver Lula Mae turned to Lacey. “I almost envy you, but tell me, dear, is it true that his blood is … well…” She faltered to a stop under Lacey’s furious glare.

  “My husband’s mother was Mexican. That’s true. But he is more of a man than any pure-blooded Anglo in this room.”

  “Oh, I’ll attest to that.”

  Lacey spun around, facing the unexpected source of support. April Darcy smiled and fluttered open her lace fan.

  “And if you good ladies want to know more about Rafe, I’m sure he’ll not only answer your questions, he’ll be happy to demonstrate what Mexican blood does for a man.”

 
The McCord sisters went off in a huff, and Sadie gazed after them, uncertain of following. Once again April decided the matter.

  “Rebecca would be grateful for your help in the kitchen. Lacey and I have a few things to talk about.”

  “I suppose I should thank you for defending my husband,” Lacey said.

  “Don’t. I didn’t do it for you but for Rafe. And you were right. He is more of a man than any other in this room.”

  “But you shouldn’t have goaded them, April. You only fed them gossip.”

  “Don’t be a fool, Lacey. Married to Rafe, you’d best get accustomed to it.” April gathered her pale blue silk skirt in hand and pushed her way through the crowd to one corner. “Come along, Lacey. We haven’t finished talking.”

  More annoyed than curious, Lacey followed her.

  “Rafe’s a man that invites constant speculation about himself, Lacey. And we both know why he married you. But I wonder if you really know what he gained today?”

  “Do you love him, April? Or are you so eaten with jealousy—”

  “It doesn’t matter.” She fanned herself in an agitated manner, looking over Lacey’s shoulder. “Think whatever you like. I know Rafe only married you to get his hands—”

  “…on the Reina that much sooner. You’re not telling me anything I don’t already know.” Lacey was a bit shocked to find the words came easily, in a calm, almost bored voice, but inside, she hurt to say them.

  “You really are a fool! Rafe only married you to get his hands on the money. A bonus, Lacey. Money that Sy left him,” she stressed, relishing the sudden blanching of Lacey’s face. “You didn’t know, did you?”

  Across the room Rafe, who had been watching the two women who seemed to bedevil him no matter what he did, caught the slight sway of Lacey’s body. She turned at that moment, her complexion ghostly, scaring him. Mutely and, it seemed, blindly, she searched for him. He was drawn to her, his gut screaming a warning, his steps hurried.

  Curt seemed to have the same idea, for he reached Lacey just as Rafe did. There was no effort on Curt’s part to hide his animosity for Rafe while his attentions were for Lacey.