Wanton Angel (38 page)

She had half expected Eli to be waiting for her there, ready to demand his conjugal rights, and Bonnie had been rehearsing her refusal, but the room was empty.

With a sigh, Bonnie took off her calico wedding dress, turned back the covers and climbed into her lonely marriage bed. Hands cupped behind her head, she stared up at the ceiling and waited.

After an hour or so, the lamp on the bedside table began to flicker and smoke. Bonnie sat up, lifted the china globe and blew out the flame.

When she was settled again, her mind immediately filled with memories of the first night she’d spent in this very bed. She’d been a virgin bride, full of love and anticipation and fear, and Eli had taken great care in deflowering her. Deliberately, thoroughly, he’d taught her pleasure, and she’d been in such a fevered state of joy by the time he entered her that the pain passed almost unnoticed …

Now, once again a bride but no longer a cherished virgin, Bonnie lay alone in the darkness, her heart as sore as her pride. Sure, she’d told Eli that she wouldn’t let him so much as touch her if he forced her into this disastrous marriage, but there was a part of her that hadn’t meant those words, a part that craved his caresses and his possession.

An invisible clock on an invisible mantelpiece ticked away the minutes, and Bonnie tried her best to go to sleep, but the war between her pride and her love for Eli McKutchen kept her awake, tossing and turning. The clock chimed eleven and then twelve and then one.

Finally Bonnie fell into a fitful sleep. She dreamed that she and Eli were making love on a warm bed of grass, beside a river that had nearly claimed their lives, and awakened in a state of heated misery to find that it was morning.

Eli’s side of the bed was empty.

Muttering because she knew that if she let go of her anger
for so much as a moment she would cry enough tears to flood the Columbia River all over again, Bonnie got out of her bed and dressed hastily.

A quick peek into the adjoining room revealed that Rose Marie was already up, probably having breakfast with her doting Aunt Genoa.

Seething, Bonnie brushed her hair and pinned it up, washed her face and rinsed her mouth, then stomped down the rear stairs to the kitchen. Only Martha was there. “Good morning, Mrs. McKutchen,” she said, busy at the stove. “Miss Genoa and Miss Rose Marie are in the garden, enjoying the sunshine.”

Miss Genoa and Miss Rose Marie are in the garden, enjoying the sunshine.
How normal those words sounded, and how horribly abnormal Eli had made this untenable situation by staying out all night long.

Not, of course, that Bonnie had wanted him to share her bed, the wretch. And if he could be contrary and difficult, so could she.

“I won’t be having breakfast, Martha,” she said loftily. “Please tell my sister-in-law that I’ve got business to attend to at the mercantile.”

Servants in Northridge were not like their counterparts in New York. “Tell her yourself, Miss Big Britches,” Martha replied amiably.

Blushing, Bonnie stormed out of the kitchen, through the dining room and the parlor and out into the garden.

“Good morning, Bonnie!” Genoa sang happily. Bonnie would have given her a set down, and a proper one, but Seth was there and she didn’t want to make a scene in front of him.

Bonnie lifted a squirming Rose into her arms and gave her a hug and a kiss before responding with a “good morning” of her own.

Genoa looked so relieved that Bonnie was ashamed of bearing a grudge against the woman, but bear it she did. “I’ve got to go and open the mercantile,” she said. “I’ll give Rose breakfast there.”

“Open the mercantile?” Genoa parroted, openly shocked. Mr. Callahan, seated on the marble bench beside her,
discreetly looked away, pretending an interest in that year’s colorful crop of marigolds and zinnias.

“Certainly. I have a business to run, Genoa. And I must speak with Katie and Mr. Hutcheson.”

Rose was kicking—even as an infant she had not liked being held—and Bonnie was forced to set her down. The child scampered off across the lawn in pursuit of a butterfly, and an obviously relieved Seth followed to make sure she didn’t go too near the pond.

Genoa was pale as alabaster. “I can understand why you would want to inform Katie and Webb of the—the marriage, but surely you know that you needn’t earn your own living any longer. Why, you’re the mistress of this house!”

Bonnie folded her arms. “You, Genoa, are the mistress of this house. I’m merely a fixture.”

As quickly as she’d paled, Genoa flushed. Her eyes danced with sweet secrets, and incredibly she smiled. “Mr. Callahan and I will be announcing our engagement within the next few weeks,” she confided, in a girlish rush of pure glee, holding out her left hand to display a very respectable diamond.

Bonnie couldn’t help softening toward her sister-in-law. Misguided as the effort had been, she knew that Genoa had only been trying to mend her brother’s broken family. No betrayal had been intended. “If I weren’t furious enough to wring your neck, Genoa McKutchen, I’d be happy for you!”

Genoa laughed, and her eyes were bright with joyous tears. “Oh, do be happy for me, Bonnie. It will spoil things if you stay angry.”

Bonnie sat down on the bench beside Genoa and hugged her. She was delighted for her sister-in-law, of course, but she was also sad. “Northridge won’t be the same without you. I don’t know how I’ll cope.”

Genoa sniffled. “Goose. I’m not leaving Northridge permanently—Seth and I are going to build a house just down the road from this one. It should be ready by the time we return from our honeymoon trip.”

Dreamily Bonnie sighed. Unless one counted the train trip across country to New York, she and Eli had never taken a honeymoon after their first wedding. Their second was only a pretense, of course, so there would be no
romantic journeys to celebrate it. “Where will you go?” she asked somewhat sadly.

Genoa took Bonnie’s left hand in hers. “We’re going to a marvelous hotel in Canada,” she confided in a delighted whisper. “Oh, Bonnie—a bride at my age! You can’t imagine how nervous I am!”

Bonnie was looking down at her own hand, the hand Genoa still held, and she was near tears. She’d been married in a calico dress and Eli hadn’t given her so much as a wedding band. “I envy you, Genoa,” she confessed. “Oh, I do envy you.”

Genoa patted her hand. “Things will work out for you and Eli, Bonnie. Just you wait and see.”

Bonnie sighed. “I wish I had your confidence,” she said. She wanted to tell Genoa that Eli hadn’t come back to the house the night before, but her pride prevented such an admission, even though Genoa probably knew the truth already.

Seth returned just then, beaming and carrying Rose on his back. Bonnie wondered if the Callahans would have children of their own and smiled at the thought.

“Do let Rose Marie stay here with us today, Bonnie,” Genoa pleaded. “She’s such a joy.”

The coming confrontation with Webb would probably not be a pleasant one. It would be better, Bonnie decided, if Rose weren’t there. She kissed her daughter’s plump cheek. “You be good while I’m gone, sweetness. I’ll bring your dolly when I come home.”

Rose approved of the plan. “Bye-bye, Mama,” she chimed, waving.

Bonnie turned away so fast that she nearly walked into a lilac bush. For some reason, her vision was blurred.

The walk to the store was all too short. Within mere minutes, Bonnie was letting herself in at the front door.

The familiar goods on the familiar shelves were a comfort to Bonnie. She might be trapped in an empty marriage, but at least she still had Rose Marie and she still had this store.

“Katie?” she called, climbing the inner stairs.

There was no answer.

“Katie?” Bonnie repeated.

Susan came out of Bonnie’s bedroom, cheeks aglow, eyes
downcast. “Katie isn’t here, Mrs. McKutchen. She’s packed her things and gone.”

“Gone?” Bonnie echoed, stunned. “Where?”

Susan shrugged and rushed into an entirely new subject. “Isn’t it wonderful! The doctor’s just been and he’s given Webb—Mr. Hutcheson—a pair of crutches to get around with!”

Still trying to guess where Katie would have gone without saying a word of farewell, Bonnie walked around Susan to enter her bedroom. Webb was indeed out of bed, his big frame balanced on crutches, struggling into his shirt.

“Are you sure you’re strong enough—” Bonnie began, noting the dearth of color in Webb’s face and the tautness of his jaw.

His blue eyes pinioned Bonnie, accusing and desolate. “I’m strong enough,” he answered in a raspy voice.

“You’ve heard, then?” Bonnie queried softly.

“About your wedding?” Webb’s voice was harsh and hostile, the voice of a stranger. “You might have told me that you’d changed your mind, Bonnie.”

Bonnie lowered her head for a moment, lingering in the doorway, her hands clasping the woodwork on either side. Her position was indefensible; she’d changed her mind a long time before Eli had forced her hand, and she’d put off telling Webb the truth. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I should have listened when people implied that you were warming Eli McKutchen’s bed. I should have been prepared for this.” Webb was hobbling toward the door, forcing Bonnie to step back out of his way.

She stared at him, appalled and furious, even though Webb’s inference was basically true. “Warming—”

“Susan!” Webb roared, determined to ignore Bonnie.

Susan came out of Katie’s room, carrying her baby and wearing a straw bonnet. Patches of pink stained her cheeks and she was very careful not to meet Bonnie’s eyes. “Mr. Hutcheson’s asked me to keep house for him, while he’s on the mend and all. It will give Samuel and me a real home.”

Bonnie’s words were for Webb, who stood with his broad back turned to her. “I hope you’ll be happy,” she said in a small and sincere voice. Her eyes moved to Susan’s face. “Webb has a beautiful house and it will be a pleasure totend.
He also has a talent for newspaper work, Susan, and I hope you won’t let him give up on his life’s work.”

There was a silence during which Bonnie looked from Susan to Webb and neither of them looked at her.

“As soon I can walk without these blasted sticks,” Webb replied in raw, distant tones, “there will be a newspaper again.”

Knowing that Webb wouldn’t be able to navigate the stairs without help, Bonnie held out her arms for the baby so that Susan would have her hands free to aid Webb. Even then, the descent was slow and laborious.

A wagon—Susan had probably gone out to arrange for it earlier—was waiting in front of the store. One of the ferryman’s sons was at the reins, and he tipped his stained hat to Bonnie and grinned. “Mornin’, ma’am,” he called.

Bonnie, surrendering little Samuel to his mother, wondered what Rob Fenwick knew that was making him grin like that and then decided he was probably just flirting. None of Hem’s boys were known for their brilliance. “Has your father got the ferry back in working order?” she asked.

“Yes, ma’am,” was the reply. That rascal was definitely smirking. “Hear you and your man done tied the knot again.”

Bonnie swallowed and closed her eyes for a moment, ready to duck back inside the store. “Where did you hear that?” she retorted, smiling for all she was worth.

Young Fenwick was helping an awkward and roundly cursing Webb into the back of the wagon. “Mr. McKutchen told us all this mornin’ at breakfast. Peculiar thing, him stayin’ at Earline’s on his own weddin’ night, ain’t it?”

Webb shot a stunned, questioning gaze at Bonnie and she thought she’d die of humiliation, right there in the doorway of her mercantile. Trust one of the Fenwick boys to shout out her personal problems to all of Northridge. Soon enough, the story would be all over town.

Bonnie groaned inwardly, her smile fixed on her face, and Webb made his torturous way out of the wagon, the bottoms of his crutches making an angry thump-thump sound on the wooden sidewalk as he approached the doorway of the mercantile.

“What the hell is going on here?” Webb demanded,
standing nose to nose with Bonnie, and blessedly making an effort to keep his voice down. “You did marry McKutchen last night, didn’t you?”

Bonnie didn’t trust herself to speak. She bit her lower lip and nodded.

“And he left you alone?”

Again Bonnie nodded. There were tears in her eyes, as if she hadn’t already had enough public disgrace for one day.

Webb looked full to bursting of righteous wrath, and his ears turned bright red. “Of all the—I ought to find that son of a bitch and break his neck!”

Bonnie made an attempt at humor. “It wouldn’t be much of a match, would it, with you on crutches and weak from being flat on your back all this time?”

Ignoring Susan and Hem’s son and all the passersby on the street, Webb cleared his throat. “Bonnie, if there’s still a chance for us—”

Bonnie wouldn’t have imagined that there could be such pain in being loved and not returning that love. Her throat closed tight and she shook her head once, then slipped back inside the store and closed the door.

She stood with her head down until she heard the wagon rattling away, and then she raised the shades that had covered the windows. The store was officially open.

The first customer wasn’t a customer at all, but a very agitated Tuttle O’Banyon. The boy’s Adam’s apple was riding up and down his neck and his eyes were round as pancakes. “Mrs. McKutchen, ma’am, you’ve got to do somethin’—”

Bonnie was alarmed. What more could happen on this awful day? So much of it still stretched out ahead. “Don’t run on, Tuttle,” she said firmly. “Just tell me what’s the matter.”

“It’s Katie—she’s gone and got herself a job in the Brass Eagle, that’s what she’s done!” Tuttle wailed, crushing his big cap in his hands. “I tried to reason with her, ma’am, I really did, but she’s bound and determined she’s goin’ to be a hurdy-gurdy and make her fortune! She figures by the time we’re old enough to get married right and proper, she’ll be ready to buy us a house!”

“Oh, Lord,” Bonnie wailed, rubbing aching temples between thumb and forefinger. “What next?”

“What are we gonna do?” Tuttle demanded, in adolescent hysteria.