Wolf Creek Wedding

by Penny Richards

  Her meaning could not have been clearer, yet Sarah didn’t have the grace to even blush. Abby wondered a bit uncharitably if her guest had brains enough to realize what she’d done. Then, seeing the undeniable glimmer of satisfaction in Sarah’s coal-black eyes, Abby realized she knew exactly what she was about.

  “I haven’t seen you at church in a long while,” the busybody said after a moment.

  From anyone else Abby might have taken the words as a statement of concern; from Sarah it was an indictment.

  “I know,” Abby said, striving to make her reply pleasant. “I miss going very much, but with this cold, wet weather setting in so early, it seemed unwise to take the baby out. We plan on getting back when she’s a bit older or we get a break in the weather.”

  “I don’t suppose I can see the child? I vow, she’s all Mary and Bart can talk about.”

  “I’m afraid she’s asleep. Perhaps another time.” Abby, who was barely controlling her irritation, took perverse pleasure in the refusal, as petty as it was.

  “Hmm.” Sarah tapped an impatient foot. “Aren’t you going to offer me any refreshment?” she asked, making Abby’s purposeful lapse in protocol sound like the gravest affront to etiquette.

  Abby should have known not to twist the lion’s tail, but she was so furious over the woman’s gall at coming under the pretense of friendship, that all she could think of was getting rid of her. Instead of answering, Abby met the older woman’s gaze with a steady one of her own. Her meaning was very clear. “Was there any particular reason you stopped by, Sarah?”

  In the blink of her dark eyes, Sarah’s veneer of civility vanished. She regarded Abby in a considering manner. “You’ve heard of Caleb’s newest enterprise, I suppose?”

  Taken aback by the sudden shift in the conversation, Abby said, “I’m afraid my hands are a bit full with taking care of the children to take much interest in Caleb’s business dealings.”

  “A pity.”

  “And why is that?”

  “If you paid more attention to the kind of man you married, you’d realize that Caleb Gentry is a manipulator just like his father. Surely you’re smart enough to know he only married you to get his hands on your farm.”

  Abby couldn’t be more confused, though she did realize two things: Saran VanSickle was indeed a vicious person, and she was taking a great deal of pleasure from whatever bit of information she was about to impart.

  “And why would he want my farm, Sarah? It isn’t even a good farm. It’s nothing but a pile of rocks, actually.”

  Sarah laughed. “Which is precisely why he wanted it, my dear. Lucas started a gravel business, which Caleb inherited when his father died. Viola Haversham told me last winter that Lucas had his eye on your property, and then within weeks of each other, both he and your husband died. I can only imagine that Caleb was thrilled to snatch up the property by marrying you.”

  Abby’s heart thundered in her chest. Lucas Gentry had been the person William had said was interested in their land! But that had nothing to do with her and Caleb. Certainly not with their marriage. Did it?

  “Actually, Sarah, the land has been sold. The papers were signed just over a week ago.”

  Sarah laughed, an unpleasant sound that held unmistakable satisfaction. “Oh, so he told you he bought it, did he? I do hope you actually saw the bank draft.”

  Abby’s stomach tightened in sudden nausea, even as her mind struggled to digest Sarah’s statement. Her meaning could not be clearer. She was saying that Caleb had not sold the land. Saying in effect that he had not even bought the land himself, but had lied about it selling at all. She was telling Abby that he had taken advantage of her self-acknowledged ignorance of business affairs to steal the farm from her.

  Ridiculous! Or was it? Could there be any truth to Sarah’s claim? The banker’s wife would know what was going on, wouldn’t she? Isn’t that what pillow talk was all about?

  Abby’s mind whispered that Caleb wouldn’t do something like that. He was too principled, and she trusted him. She had to trust him, or her whole world would fall apart...again.

  “The farm did sell, but Caleb didn’t buy it,” she said in a firm voice, while some contrary part of her mind argued that she had no way of knowing whether he had or not since she had given him her power of attorney.

  Sarah rearranged her sharp features into feigned regret. “Oh, well, forgive me for even mentioning it, then. I’m sure Vi must have misunderstood, but I’m sure you understand that I only wanted to make certain that you knew what kind of man you’ve married.”

  Getting to her feet, Abby crossed to the hall tree, took down Sarah’s coat and held it out toward her, her whole body trembling with fury. “And why did I marry him, Sarah?” Abby said, her temper and her voice spiking in spite of her attempts to control them. “If it weren’t for you and your need to hurt people, Caleb and I wouldn’t be in a marriage we neither one wanted.”

  “Why I’m sure I just—”

  “Not another word, you venomous biddy! Take your coat and get out of here.”

  Both Abby and Sarah gasped and whirled toward the door leading to the kitchen. The quiet command had come from Caleb, who was striding across the room.

  Sarah’s face paled, and with a little squeak of fear, she rushed to Abby and jerked the coat from her hands. In her hurry to get away from the man bearing down on her like an avenging angel, she didn’t even bother putting it on, but grabbed the doorknob and hauled open the door.

  “Sarah.”

  Caleb’s voice was deceptively quiet.

  She turned, her eyes wide with alarm.

  “I’m sure you’ll understand if I tell you that I never want to see you on this place again. And be assured that if I ever hear of you saying anything hurtful about me or my wife, I will go to your husband and see to it that he knows what kind of person he’s married to. Assuming there’s a remote possibility he has any doubts.”

  Without granting him an answer, Sarah rushed through the open door and slammed it behind her. The sound of her shoes clattering down the steps was loud in the stillness of the room.

  Caleb and Abby stared at each other across the expanse of the room, across a sea of uncertainty and doubt. Caleb felt his whole world crumbling for the second time, but all Abby saw in his eyes was a wary stiffness.

  “Hey, Caleb!” Ben came running into the room by way of the kitchen. “Are you ready to go?”

  Caleb’s gaze never left Abby’s. “Not now, Ben.”

  “But you said we could—”

  “Not now, Ben!” Caleb said in a tone so harsh that Ben visibly flinched.

  From the corner of her eye, Abby saw her son turn and run from the room, but her gaze never faltered from her husband’s.

  “It’s true, isn’t it?”

  Caleb’s mouth twisted into a humorless smile. “What? That I married you to get your land? I think you know why we entered this marriage we neither one want to be in.”

  Hearing him repeat almost verbatim the words she’d spoken to Sarah, sent a searing pain through Abby’s heart. It was clear that they’d wounded Caleb, too. While it was true that she hadn’t wanted the marriage, it was also true that now she did. Very much.

  “Was your father interested in the farm back before William died?” she asked, a wary challenge in her voice.

  “Yes, though I didn’t know anything about it until I talked to Nate about selling it for you. He told me that my father was considering offering for the place and suggested I do just what Sarah said. I was marrying you, so why not just consider it mine once we tied the knot? I told him I couldn’t do that. I wouldn’t.” Breaking eye contact, he strode to the fireplace and stood staring at the flames.

  “So you really did sell it,” she said, moving to stand behind him.

  He scraped a hand t
hrough his tousled hair. “Yes.”

  “To whom?” she demanded, wanting, no, needing to know the truth, to prove Sarah a liar.

  Placing a booted foot on the hearth, he rested his forearm on the mantel and shot her an insolent look over his shoulder. “Me. All the gravel on it makes it worth a great deal of money, and I am in the gravel business.” His tone was mocking, bitter.

  “I see.”

  He whirled suddenly. “Do you?”

  “I see that you kept something very important from me,” she cried. “Something that affects my children’s future.”

  He actually jerked his head back as if she’d struck him. She saw his eyes go from silver to stormy gray as distress and uncertainty mutated to cold anger. Too late, she realized she’d made an unforgivable lapse in judgment.

  In a voice as frigid as the winter day, he said, “Let me be very clear, madam. Your children’s future is well provided for. I did not marry you for your farm. We both know the reasons we married. I said I would find a buyer for you, and I did. I told you that I would set aside the money for your children’s future. I did.”

  Abby had never seen him so angry. She hardly knew the man looking at her with such harsh arrogance. She sucked in a breath, realizing with a dreadful certainty that she was losing him—probably had lost him—and all because for a few tormented minutes, she had bought into Sarah VanSickle’s lies.

  “Why didn’t you tell me you were the buyer?” she asked pleadingly, wanting to understand, hoping to appease his anger. “Why didn’t you at least discuss it with me?”

  Caleb threw back his head and stared at the ceiling for a moment before pinning her with a contemptuous look. “Ah, yes, you are an intelligent woman who is accustomed to having her say, therefore I should have talked it over with you. After all, that’s what you and William would have done.”

  “Yes, we—”

  “I am not William Carter, Abby,” he told her with a quietness that was far more devastating than yelling would be. “I am not used to asking for anyone’s opinion when I enter a business arrangement. I’m certainly not used to consulting my wife!”

  No, he was not William, and though Caleb had done remarkably well adapting to their marriage, he would never be like the easygoing William—in any way. Caleb was a proud, difficult man whose integrity she had cast doubt on. She wasn’t sure he could ever forgive her for that. Her remorseful, aching heart broke a bit more.

  “Couldn’t you have at least told me?” she asked, her voice a soft tremble.

  “I suppose I could have,” he said, his tone softer now, too, “but I didn’t because you’re going at a dead run from daylight until dark, and because you told me you had no understanding of such matters. When you gave me your power of attorney, I assumed you trusted me. I didn’t think it mattered who bought the farm, as long as I kept my end of the bargain.”

  Though Sarah’s poison might have caused Abby to question Caleb for a brief moment, she knew beyond doubt he was telling the truth. He would never lie to her about something like this. He would never lie about anything. She felt the hot scald of threatening tears and wondered if he could ever forgive her.

  “If there is any question in your mind about my cheating you,” he added, “rest assured, I did not. I paid you far above market value. If you don’t believe me, feel free to ask Nate.”

  “I don’t need to ask Nate,” she whispered brokenly. “I do believe you.”

  He didn’t bother to answer. Turning, he left her standing beside the fireplace, her heart and her hopes for the future shattered like the china figurine of his mother’s. All by one moment’s carelessness.

  Chapter Twelve

  Abby hadn’t wept this deeply since the first weeks following William’s death, but she did after Caleb left her alone in the parlor with nothing but the ticking clock for company. Drawing a shuddering breath, she berated herself for her suspicions. How could she have doubted him even for even a second when he had proved over and over that he was honorable?

  He had come so far the past few weeks in the way he related to all of them. There were moments she’d felt they were starting to build something that held the potential for a lifetime of love. Now she had ruined everything by questioning his integrity. He’d been angry when he left. Furious. Fresh tears streamed down her cheeks. Could he ever forgive her? Would he?

  * * *

  Caleb stormed out of the house, his long strides eating up the distance to the barn while despair gnawed at his heart and sickness clawed at his stomach. He scraped back his hair with both hands and gave a throaty snarl of fury.

  He should have known better than to let any woman work her way beneath his guard and his skin! Hadn’t his mother’s desertion taught him that much? He must have been a fool to feel guilty about his growing feelings for Abby, when it was clear now that nothing he’d done or tried to do to make things better between them had made a nickel’s worth of difference. In retrospect, there was a lot to be said for loveless marriages, like the one he had shared with Emily.

  The thought had no sooner entered his mind than he knew he was lying to himself. As devastated as he was by Abby’s distrust, he knew his life with Emily had been a shadow life compared to the past few weeks. The problem with feeling too much was that it opened you up not just to the good things, but the bad. Mutual caring was part and parcel with the ability to inflict not just joy, but pain, intentional or not.

  On some level he’d known that, but experiencing it firsthand was far different. He’d also known his growing feelings for Abby were dangerous, but he had no more been able to stop them than he’d been able to stop the sun from rising each morning. Now he was paying the price.

  He relived the scene with Abby, hearing again her accusing voice demanding to know the details about the sale of her farm, demanding to know why he had not talked to her, had not told her about his plans. He felt the prickle of tears beneath his eyelids. It hurt. Dear sweet Heaven, it hurt.

  But no more. The price of loving was just too high.

  * * *

  He was mucking out the horse’s stall thirty minutes later when he heard Abby calling for Ben. He hardened his heart against the sound of her voice and the mental image that accompanied it, and kept scattering fresh hay around the cubicle. After a while, she called again.

  He was just closing the door to the stall when the barn door was flung against the wall and Abby rushed in. He couldn’t ignore her. They were married. He braced himself and turned to face her.

  Her hair was coming loose and the expression in her eyes bordered on panic. His heart tightened in pain and he fought the urge to go to her and pull her into his arms. Instead, he stood there leaning against the pitchfork, regarding her with what he hoped was a neutral expression.

  “Caleb,” she said, breathing hard, the heat of her breath creating a fog in the cold air. “Is Ben with you?”

  “No.”

  “I’ve looked the house over, and he’s nowhere inside. I’ve called and I’ve called, but he doesn’t come and doesn’t answer. That isn’t like him.”

  A memory flashed through Caleb’s mind. Ben coming into the parlor wanting to go check his traps as Caleb had promised him they would. A promise he’d made before he’d known that Sarah VanSickle’s spite was about to send his whole world crashing down.

  “Not now, Ben.”

  He’d told him no twice. And not kindly.

  “Go back to the house, Abby,” Caleb told her. “I’ll find him.”

  She made a little whimpering sound and looked as if she might burst into tears. “How can you possibly know where he’s gone?”

  “He wanted to go check his traps and I told him no, so I imagine he took off to do it by himself.”

  Caleb didn’t tell her how dangerous that seemingly easy task could be. Who knew what might be
caught in the traps? Critters like coyotes and bobcats and the like had to be shot in the head before you could remove them from the traps. Caleb’s blood ran cold. Ben didn’t have a gun—did he?

  Leaning the pitchfork against the wall, Caleb grasped Abby’s elbow and guided her toward the door, pulling her outside into the overcast, foggy day. “I need to get my .22,” he told her, “and see if Ben took the shotgun.”

  Abby gasped. “He knows he’s not supposed to have it unless you’re along.”

  “I know, but he’s a boy, and boys are not noted for doing what they’re supposed to.” The words were accompanied by a grim smile. “He’ll be somewhere along the creek.”

  “How do you know?” she asked, trotting along beside him.

  “Because everything has to have water, so you look for different animal trails along the creek and set your traps accordingly.”

  Caleb hauled her up the back porch steps and they stepped into the warmth of the kitchen. Abby stayed near the door, her arms crossed as if to ward off a chill, while he went to fetch his gun.

  “The shotgun’s where it should be,” he said, grabbing a felt hat from the rack to protect his bare head from the rain.

  “Thank God,” Abby murmured.

  Resting the rifle on his shoulder, he reached for the doorknob, troubled by a growing sense of alarm. The temperature was dropping every hour, and with the light drizzle, Ben might lose his way. Unfamiliar panic rushed through Caleb’s body. Panic and that too-familiar guilt.

  “Caleb.”

  He turned. Abby stood before him, her face pale, blue eyes awash with tears she somehow held at bay. She reached out, as if to lay her palm against his chest, and then caught herself, clenched her hand into a fist and let her arm fall to her side.

  “I’m sorry.”

  There was no need for her to say more.

  Face grim, eyes as hard as steel, he said, “So am I.”

  It took every ounce of willpower to turn and walk away from her when all he wanted was to cradle her close and tell her that he would make things right somehow, if only he knew how.