Shotgun Bride (31 page)

K
ade was profoundly relieved when Mandy chose the town cemetery for Lathrop’s and Curry’s final resting places. He couldn’t have buried them on the Triple M; that kind of evil would taint the earth, and every inch of the ranch was holy to him. Still, he stood beside her next to Cree’s grave, and he held his hat in his hand. She settled against him, empty of tears, for she’d cried plenty in the three days and nights since they’d ridden out of that canyon together.

“How could I have missed seeing what was happening to him?” she whispered, looking up at Kade, her eyes full of memories he couldn’t share. “It must have been a long time in the making.”

“We see what we look at, Mandy,” he said quietly, tightening his arm around her waist. “Anyhow, everybody’s got a lot of different sides to them. The part of Cree you saw was real enough—it just wasn’t the whole man.”

She smiled tremulously, and he leaned to kiss her forehead. “How’d you get so smart?” she asked.

He chuckled grimly at that, shook his head slightly. “Maybe I’m not so sharp as folks give me credit for. I’ve lived around here all my life, but there was a lot I didn’t see, just the same. I didn’t take note of Harry, for example, and how he and those other kids were doing without, even though he was right under my nose the whole time. I never thought much about people like the Fees, trying to put food in their mouths and make it through from one day to the next. I thought, and acted, like a McKettrick, as if that was all anybody had the right to ask of me.”

“What else could you be, besides a McKettrick?” she asked reasonably, and laid her head against his shoulder, though they weren’t alone. Half the town had come to see Lathrop and Curry laid to rest, not out of grief, but to see the thing ended, and as a way of accepting Mandy into the fold. The appreciation he felt for that kindness had settled in deep, made itself a part of him forever, like the love he bore his wife.

He gave a rueful half smile. “I don’t rightly know,” he said. “Guess you’ll just have to take me as I am.”

She stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. “Nonsense,” she teased. “You need some work, but once I get you trained, you’ll be close to perfect.”

He laughed at that, though the cemetery surely wasn’t the proper place for it. “That might take a while.”

She smiled, and this time it was full strength. “We’ve got a lifetime. Especially now that you’ve turned in that nickel-silver star you were wearing.”

He slanted a glance at Sam Fee, sworn in that very morning by the head of the town council. Sam stood proudly beside his wife, with his shoulders back and his head high. He’d be a good marshal; he had the grit for it. Rafe was having a little clapboard house built for the Fees, just down the street from the jailhouse, and the town was pooling its modest resources to furnish the place from top to bottom.

“I don’t figure I’ll miss that badge much,” Kade allowed. “I was born to be a rancher, and that’s the trail I’ll follow from now on. What about you, Mandy?”

She looked puzzled. “What
about
me?”

“I seem to recall that you wanted to be Annie Oakley and see the world.”

She gave another smile, muted, but still bright as light on creek water. “That job’s taken, and this is enough world for me right here.” Then she added saucily, “I still want my fifty horses and the money you promised me, though.”

If they hadn’t just seen two men buried, he’d have laughed out loud, picked her up, and spun her around, just for the sheer joy of doing it.

Doc approached, clearing his throat. Mamie and the little ones stood at a little distance in a red-haired cluster, looking on. The old man nodded to Mandy, put his hand out to Kade. “You did a fine job of cleaning out that nest of murdering rats,” he said forthrightly. “Both of you. Which is not to say it wasn’t out-and-out stupid to go about it the way you did.”

Kade grinned, shook the doctor’s hand. “I’ll take that for a compliment.” Then nodding to indicate the Sussex tribe, he said, “You thinking of settling down and staying sober, Doc?”

Doc flushed, but a twinkle was in his wise, pouchy, old eyes. “Maybe I am.”

“Good,” Kade said, and he meant it.

The physician turned his attention to Mandy. “You keep an eye on this rounder,” he warned. “He’s got a wild streak in him, just like those brothers of his. Some of us thought Kade’d never get through sowing his oats, but loving you, that’s changed him for the better, just like marrying Emmeline changed Rafe.” Doc looked around, found Jeb in the crowd. “Two down, one to go,” he finished. Then he turned and went back to Mamie, who waited with a sweet smile and shining eyes.

In the distance, Kade heard the clamor of an approaching stagecoach. “Well, Mrs. McKettrick,” he said, “if we’re going to catch the four o’clock to Flagstaff and make our train to Phoenix, we’d best be heading for the mercantile.”

She squeezed his hand. “Thank you for doing this, Kade. Seeing Mama will give me some peace.”

He nodded. They’d left their bags on the sidewalk outside the general store before the funerals. Kade doubted if anyone had missed the irony of those two coffins, Curry’s and Cree’s, sitting side by side in the front of the church, but he was ready to put the events leading up to that strange state of affairs behind him for good.

Concepcion, turning plumper by the day, smiled at them and left Angus’s side to walk alongside them for a ways. Not to be outdone, the old man soon caught up, though he was using a cane and still looked a little puny.

The stage pulled into Indian Rock and came to a noisy, dust-raising stop in front of the store, right on schedule.

Angus faced Kade, slapped him hard on the shoulder. Fortunately, Kade had some experience with his pa’s exuberance, and he’d braced himself for the blow. “When you get back,” Angus said, “Concepcion and I will have moved into your old room. You’ll take ours, you and Mandy. It’s anybody’s guess which of you boys will wind up running the ranch, but one of you ought to head up the household, and you’ll do as well as anybody.”

Kade was startled, and he didn’t try to hide it. “Pa, that isn’t necessary. That room, that house is yours—I’ll build a place for Mandy and me.”

Angus shook his head; plainly he’d made up his mind. “Rafe is set, across the creek there with Emmeline, and God willing, Jeb will light somewhere and take hold one of these days, too. I want you to have the house, Kade, and that’s the end of it.”

Still astounded, Kade looked down at Mandy. She smiled at his expression. “Guess we’ll have to go ahead and make something of ourselves,” she said.

Kade turned back to his father, put out his hand. “Thanks, Pa,” he said, still dazed. “Thanks.”

Angus was flushed. “Get on that stage and get out of here,” he said gruffly. “Sooner you get your business done down Phoenix way, the better. That ranch needs running, and you boys have hardly turned a hand to the place for a long time. At this rate, I’ll have to wait for the baby to grow up and take over.”

Mandy stood on tiptoe to kiss Angus’s cheek in farewell.

Kade stopped in his tracks. “Baby? What baby?”

“Concepcion’s and mine,” Angus said.

Kade was speechless.

“If there’s a God in heaven,” Angus went on, apparently not realizing that he’d just set off a charge of dynamite, “it’ll be a girl, and she’ll have no need of a hundred square miles of scrub grass and bawling cows.”

Kade recovered a little, grinned at the image his father painted, and wondered, as he put his hat back on, if the old man had any inkling that he’d just challenged fate and thereby guaranteed himself a hellcat of a daughter who’d fight her brothers tooth and nail for elbow room. Mandy linked her arm with Kade’s, and he handed her aboard the stage.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” he asked when they were both settled in the coach.

She laughed. “That you’re going to have a sister and she’s going to be a pistol?”

He nodded, delighted by the prospect of Angus and Concepcion as new parents.

Mandy smiled. “Yes—it crossed my mind.”

“I’ll be damned,” Kade said, still grinning, feeling the whole rig shift as the driver climbed into the box to release the brake lever and take the reins. “A sister!”

T
he ranch outside Phoenix was owned by Clark Kaplan, according to the information Kade had gathered before they left Indian Rock, and he and his wife, Eloise, were waiting outside when Kade and Mandy drove up in a hired buggy. The place was well kept, if not fancy, with a low-slung log house and a long porch shaded by a good roof.

“I don’t see Mama,” Mandy fretted, shading her eyes with one hand and peering into the blazing sunlight.

“Most likely, she’s in the house,” Kade reasoned calmly. “You said she was sickly.”

Mandy hugged herself; even though it was only ten in the morning, the heat was already oppressive. In the high country, spring was still raw and new, with a tinge of winter to it, but down in the desert, with its lonely spaces and scattered cacti, summer was in full swing. “What if she’s already passed?” she whispered. “I don’t think I could bear that, her dying without my having a chance to say good-bye, I mean.”

“Don’t borrow trouble,” Kade advised, reining in the mare, a sturdy gray rented right along with the buggy. “See the smile on that woman’s face? She wouldn’t be so cheerful if she had bad tidings.”

Mrs. Kaplan approached them confidently, and sure enough, she was smiling. She was a small woman, but looked strong, and the light in her pale blue eyes was kindly. “Dixie’s been waiting for you, ever since we got your wire,” she said. “Come on in and I’ll get you both something cold to drink.” She turned and beckoned to her husband. “Don’t just stand there, Mr. Kaplan. See to this horse and buggy.”

Kaplan, a weathered and leathery man, half again as tall as his wife and wiry, took off his hat and strode over to greet them. “Howdy,” he said with a nod, taking hold of the fittings and sparing a whole second word for the horse.

Kade got down from the rig and lifted Mandy after him. She felt a rush of emotion at his touch, perhaps because they’d spent the better part of the night making love in their hotel room. They had their differences, and always would, but their bodies agreed on everything.

Introductions were made, though they were unnecessary, as a matter of form. Then Mandy was walking toward the log house, toward her mother, her heart jammed into her throat.

Dixie waited in the front room, seated in a chair, a blanket spread over her knees. She was thin, and flushed, but her dark hair had been carefully arranged, and her eyes, greenish blue like Mandy’s own, were bright with fretful anticipation.

“Amanda Rose,” she whispered, and stretched out her hands.

Mandy rushed to her, embraced her. She felt as fragile as a fledgling in Mandy’s arms, but she was still Dixie. Mandy wept as she held her mother, and so did Dixie.

“It was in the newspaper, about Cree and Gig,” Dixie said softly. “Leastways, they’re both at peace now. I won’t have you sorrowing over what happened, Amanda Rose. It wasn’t your fault.”

Mandy hadn’t realized how badly she’d needed to hear those words from this particular person, until they fell upon her ears. “Thank you, Mama.” She knelt beside Dixie’s chair and nodded toward Kade, who was standing with his hat in his hands. “This is my husband, Kade McKettrick.”

“Pleased to meet you, ma’am,” Kade said, then colored up a little. Mandy hadn’t guessed, before that moment, that he was nervous about meeting Dixie, and she was touched to see that her mother’s opinion mattered to him.

“Aren’t you a sight for these sore old eyes,” Dixie said, and Mandy laughed through her tears, because some things never changed. Dixie was a woman who liked men, sons and brothers, husbands and lovers and strangers. “I’m depending on you to look after my little girl, you know.”

Kade smiled. “I’ll do that, ma’am, insofar as she’ll allow it.”

Dixie was clearly pleased, even a mite fluttery. “She’ll allow it,” she told him, her fragile arm tight around Mandy’s shoulders, “or I’ll know the reason why.”

“Maybe I’ll go and help Mr. Kaplan with that rig,” Kade decided, and promptly retreated. Mrs. Kaplan had already vanished into the kitchen to brew up a pitcher of lemonade.

Dixie caught Mandy’s face between her cool, papery hands. “Are you happy, Amanda Rose?” she demanded softly. “That’s all I need to know.
Are you happy?”

Mandy nodded. “Kade’s a good man, Mama. Troublesome as a bee-stung mule, but good.”

Dixie seemed merrily impatient, waving aside Kade’s besetting sin. To her, it was probably a virtue. “Is there a babe started? I’d like to think I might be a grandmother sometime, even if I’m not here to see the day.”

“We’re working at it,” Mandy assured her. “And of course you’ll be here!” They both engaged in another spate of tears, though this time, they were mixed with laughter.

The visit had to be brief, since Dixie was frail, and they all took their lemonade on the front porch, Mr. Kaplan and Kade having carried Dixie’s chair out there, in the hope of catching a stray breeze. There was plenty of good talk, but at a signal from Mrs. Kaplan, her husband allowed as how he’d better be about getting the rig ready to travel, and Kade went to help, but not before a meaningful glance passed between him and Mandy.

“I’ll get your bed ready,” Mrs. Kaplan told Dixie, who sighed and nodded her acquiescence.

“Kade and I have talked about this, Mama,” Mandy said when she and Dixie were alone. “We want you to come back to the Triple M with us, so we can look after you ourselves.”

Dixie laid a gentle hand to Mandy’s cheek, and a sad smile was shining in her eyes as she regarded her daughter. “Guess you were about the only thing I ever got right in the whole of my life,” she said wistfully. “But that’s enough, I reckon.” She paused, recovering her breath, then shook her head. “I can’t go anyplace, Mandy. I’m all used up, and seeing you, well, that was all I was waiting for.”

“Nonsense,” Mandy whispered, near tears again. “You’ll be better in no time—”

“No,” Dixie broke in gently. “I want to rest, Mandy, and I’m asking you to do me the kindness of letting me go. You just love that man of yours. Have yourself a houseful of babies and make a fine life for yourself. You do those things, and I’ll be dancing someplace for the joy of knowing you’re happy.”

“Mama—”

Dixie shook her head once more, her expression gentle, her eyes shining with tears. “Do as I say, Mandy. Cree and Gig and me, we’re all part of the past, figures in a story that’s already been told. You and Kade are what’s real now. You go on, and don’t make this parting any harder than it has to be.”

Mandy hesitated, then nodded.

Dixie strained to kiss Mandy’s cheek, and the touch of her lips felt cool and somehow faded, as though a part of her had already gone on ahead. “Go home, Amanda Rose. And don’t you be coming back here to cry over a mound of dirt, neither. I’ll be long gone.”

Again, Mandy nodded.

Dixie squeezed her hand with surprising strength. “Go home,” she repeated. “That’s what I mean to do, and I daresay I might even find a welcome there.”

Kade brought the buggy around, got down, and after a moment of utter stillness, walked toward them.

Mandy stood, then leaned down to kiss the top of Dixie’s head. “Good-bye, Mama,” she said, and went to meet Kade.

When she looked back, Mr. Kaplan was carrying her mother into the house. The chair remained on the porch, rocking a little in the breeze, as if a ghost were seated there.

Kade put an arm around Mandy’s waist. “Ready?” he asked.

She looked up at him and saw her future in his eyes. She saw their children, and the home they would make together. The joys and sorrows they would share. “Yes,” she said softly.

He took her hand, raised it to his lips, and kissed the knuckles. “I love you,” he said, and she responded in kind from the deepest regions of her heart, the places that had been closed up and locked until she’d fallen in love with Kade.

They drove back to Phoenix, talking quietly along the way, checked out of their hotel, and boarded a northbound train.

When they reached Indian Rock, many long hours later, having ridden the stagecoach from Flagstaff, Angus was there to meet them, his face solemn, a telegram crumpled in one hand. Mandy didn’t need to read it to know that Dixie had gone home, just as she’d said she would.

By now, she was dancing for sure.