Wyoming Wildfire (34 page)

It was no wonder she hadn’t slept well and now felt rather headachy, probably from tossing about most of the night. Well, she’d soon have plenty of time to rest because everybody was going home the next day, including Emma, and then the house would be theirs once again. But in the meantime, her headache was getting much worse, and if she had to continue being the smiling hostess for another day and a half, it would be a lot easier if she took one of her powders.

She carried her coffee cup to the kitchen. Every available surface was piled high with anything that could contain food. It would take Rachel the better part of a day to wash everything and put it away. The rest of the house was in much the same state. Sibyl smiled wryly to see the decorations they had worked so hard to put up either pulled down or pulled apart. It was just as well they weren’t expecting any more guests till spring. It would take them that long to get the house back in order.

In spite of the disarray, she felt pleased with herself as she mounted the steps to her bedroom. It had been a good party, one it would be hard for her to match next year, but everyone seemed to expect her to try and they were already putting in requests for rooms. It had been a lot of trouble, but it was nice to know that all their hard work had been rewarded. It was even more pleasant to know that Burch had been pleased; he had told her so at least a dozen times during the last three days.

When she reached the top of the landing she could hear the small noises made by the guests moving about in their rooms. Burch’s door was closed. He’d probably stayed up till dawn, she thought as she found her headache powders, and won’t get up till noon if I don’t wake him. Bother. Her pitcher and water glass were not in her room. Then she remembered she had put them in Emma’s room because there hadn’t been enough for all the guests. She could use Burch’s water and wake him up at the same time. After all, it was really
his
party, and he ought to be up. She opened his door quietly and stuck her head in.

Burch stood across the room with his back to the door, naked to the waist. Emma stood in front him, clad only in a thin negligee, her body pressed against his and her arms wrapped tightly around his neck.

It feels so good just to be next to you,” Emma moaned in a voice husky with passion. “I don’t know how I could stand to wait so long.”

The headache powder spilled from Sibyl’s nerveless hand. For a moment she was unable to think or move; it was too monstrous, too completely horrible to be true. She backed away from the door, a dry sob catching in her throat, and then she raced for her own room. Burch had lied to her! Every word was a pretense, a subterfuge to keep her from seeing the cesspool of lust that corrupted his heart. There, in the very bed where he had held her in his arms and sworn he cared only for her, he had desecrated their love and their home with that tramp.

How could she have been such a fool? Why had she let herself be taken in by this big, brawny cowboy in Levi’s? She paced the room, feeling the waves of hysteria and nausea welling up within her, threatening to take her reason and her control. “Aunt Augusta!” she cried, with an agonized moan, and ran to find the only human being who understood her and loved her without reservation.

But Augusta wasn’t in her room. The four-poster bed was neatly made up with the white handmade bedspread’s geometric patterns exactly fitted to the rectangular shape of the mattress. Holding back a desire to call for her aunt at the top of her voice, Sibyl hurried downstairs, looking in each room until she entered the small one off the main parlor. She was brought up short by the picture of her aunt, radiantly smiling, seated next to Lasso Slaughter, whose countenance was covered by an equally delirious expression. To Sibyl’s utter astonishment, she realized that Lasso had both of her aunt’s hands in his, and Augusta was making no attempt to remove them.

“Sibyl, darling,” Augusta said without rising, “Lasso has just asked me to marry him and I’ve accepted. Please wish me happy.”

My God, no! Two such horrible disasters couldn’t happen in the same minute. It had to be a dream. Maybe she was in Hell. Yet her aunt’s image didn’t fade and Lasso’s voice reached her as effortlessly as ever.

“I’m the happiest man alive. Don’t know what I’ve done to deserve such a prize as Gussie, but I sure aim to see that she doesn’t regret it.”

Sibyl couldn’t move, she couldn’t say the words,
any words,
that would congratulate her aunt. She felt bereft, betrayed.

“I’m sure this is no surprise to you, not after you’ve teased me about Lasso for so long.”

Not a surprise! She was stunned, speechless, sick! How could this have happened?

“We’ve decided against a long engagement. With the girls to care for and the ranch to run, there just isn’t time for it.

No, her aunt
had
to wait; she had to give Sibyl time to make her change her mind.

“What your aunt is trying to say is I’m impatient to have her to myself, and she’s promised we can be married on New Year’s.”

“But that’s just six days,” Sibyl managed to speak at last. “We’ll never manage to get things ready.” What am I saying! I’ve got to stop her before it’s too late.

“I knew you’d be happy for me,” Augusta said, rising and giving Sibyl a huge hug. She was trembling with excitement, and when she looked into Sibyl’s eyes, all of her niece’s resistance melted. Augusta’s eyes glowed and her small mouth, usually so prim and firm, was relaxed in a smile that betokened complete happiness.

“We decided to ask everybody to stay and celebrate
the
wedding with us,” Lasso told her, nearly bursting with pride. “I want the entire territory to know that I got the best and prettiest little woman in the whole world.”

“Lasso, how can you say such a thing with Sibyl standing right in front of you?” asked Augusta, blushing with pleasure.

“Your niece knows I think she’s pretty as a spring heifer, but I told her from the first she couldn’t hold a candle to you, and she
can’t”

“There’s nothing else to do when a man’s that foolish over you,” said Augusta, fondly looking at her beloved. “If I don’t marry him, I don’t know what he might do to himself.”

“And don’t forget the girls,” Lasso added.

“I’m not, but I don’t want you to think that I’m marrying you because they need a mother.”

“I know you’re not,” Lasso said in a voice completely lacking in heartiness, “and that’s the biggest surprise of all.”

Sibyl fought to get control of herself. The double blow threatened to destroy her reason. She felt unable to think, to understand, to even
endure
another minute in this horrible house. She mumbled something and turned to leave, to find someplace to be alone before she began to scream in loud, piercing wails. To her unspeakable horror, Burch walked into the room.

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you three. Why are you hiding here when there’s a house full of people wanting to see you?” Burch paused, taking in Sibyl’s stricken countenance and the radiant happiness of the couple, and burst into a roar of laughter. “By God, you did it, didn’t you, old friend? And she said yes. I can tell by that ridiculous grin on your face.”

“Yep, she did,” Lasso answered foolishly.

“Now why would you go and throw yourself away on an old hunk like that, Aunt Augusta, when I’ve been making up to you for months and you wouldn’t even give me so much as a good night kiss?”

Augusta blushed rosily and Lasso roared with good humor. Sibyl thought she would scream, but her agony was not to end quickly. Emma Stratton, the brazen, brass-faced whore, came sidling into the parlor like the serpent she was.

“I thought I heard your laugh, Burch. What are you doing in here?”

“Augusta and Lasso have just gotten themselves engaged. When are you getting married?”

“New Year’s, and we’re inviting everybody to stay and celebrate with us.”

“Six more days,” exclaimed Emma. “I don’t know if I can stand so much fun. The only thing that would make it better would be if there was to be a double wedding,” she said meaningfully. “That
would
be something to celebrate.”

“I don’t think Sibyl could survive more than one at a time,” Burch said, turning with sympathy to his beloved. “This party has just about taken the starch out of her as it is. You’re looking a little pale this morning.”

“I have a headache,” Sibyl whispered, wondering what she had ever done to deserve such torment.

“I don’t think I ever had a headache,” Emma simpered.

“I have some headache powders,” offered Augusta, moving toward her niece.

“No, you stay here. I’ve got some of my own,” she said, desperately needing to get away from them, from everyone, until she could come to grips with the dissolution of her whole existence. “I think I’ll just lie down for a while. Will you see that everyone is taken care of for me?”

“Of course, dear, but are you sure you wouldn’t like for me to come with you?”

“No,” she insisted, trying not to shout the word, “there’s no need for both of us to be locked away, not on such a day as this.” She kissed her aunt and forced herself to speak the hated words. “I’m very happy for you. I’ve been expecting it for weeks.” She finished up with a hiccupped sob.

“Are you sure you’re all right?” asked Burch, genuinely worried about her now.

“I’ll be fine. I just need a little quiet.”

“You poor thing,” said Emma with spurious sympathy. “Does that headache make you feel absolutely sick?”

“No, only people can do that.” Sibyl realized that she had really upset Augusta now, and she hurried to apologize. “Forget what I said; I’ll be all right in a little bit. Now go tell everyone your news and don’t give me a thought,” she urged and almost ran from the room.

Sibyl moved through the next week like a sleepwalker. A terrible pain, like a heavy weight, pressed down on her chest every waking moment, making it hard for her to breathe, to even move. A great lassitude had overtaken her; some mornings it was almost impossible to get out of bed. Sleepless nights followed days that passed like a dream. But that dream was a nightmare filled with pictures of Emma: Emma in Burch’s arms, Emma kissing Burch, Emma running the ranch, Emma taking over everything that was important. The image of Emma grew larger and larger until it towered over Burch, while her own image shrank until it was almost impossible to see her at all.

The reality of her days was hardly different. She spent all of her time with Augusta, cooking endless meals, making preparations for the wedding, and going through the house packing up furniture to be sent in wagons to the Three-Bars. Augusta was too taken up with her own plans to penetrate Sibyl’s facade of tired good cheer.

Burch seldom saw her at all; she avoided him as much as she could. When she had to see him, she made sure Augusta or Lasso was with them and then confined her conversation to the practical considerations that concerned the wedding. That wasn’t too difficult because Emma rarely allowed the conversation to stray far from herself or weddings, hopefully hers.

It would have been impossible for Burch to be unaware of Sibyl’s terrible unhappiness, but he thought it was because of Augusta’s decision to marry Lasso. She had to grow accustomed to it sooner or later, he thought, so she might as well begin now. But he didn’t understand why she would withdraw from him when he tried to talk to her, or why she would reply with forced gaiety that she was too busy to have time for him just now and sent him off to entertain Emma.

EMMA! That woman had become a curse. She jumped at the opportunity of spending an extra six days at the Elkhorn, even though her brother had to leave.

“You can see to the ranch, Auggie,” she had said blithely. “There’s no need for me to return as well.”

“But you know you never like anything I do.”

“Then consider this your chance to prove me wrong,” she said, trying to get rid of him quickly. “And don’t come back until I send for you,” she whispered fiercely when she saw him off.

The weather continued to hold, and Emma and Burch spent most of their days out on the range where the cowboys were doing their best to repair the ravages of the last blizzard. Sibyl had trained herself not to even hear Emma when she gushed, “Seeing Burch run a ranch has been a privilege. I know I’ve learned more in one week than I’ve learned in a lifetime.”

But to Augusta Sibyl was less reticent.

“I’ll bet her eyes haven’t left Burch long enough to know whether we’re raising cows or kangaroos.” But Sibyl’s hold on her temper finally snapped when Emma said at least one time too many, “I simply
must
have one of your little bulls.”

“Isn’t one male enough for you, or must you have every one you see?” That had stopped the conversation cold, and earned her an uncomprehending look from Augusta and an angry glare from Burch.

“I’ve told you they belong to Sibyl,” Burch repeated, weary of Emma and her obsession with Sibyl’s bulls.

“You shouldn’t have spoken to Emma like that,” he said when he at last caught Sibyl alone in her room doing the final handwork on Augusta’s wedding dress. “Emma’s a pretty robust gal, but her feelings can be hurt.”

“I wouldn’t worry about her feelings if I were you. I doubt she’s heard a single word I’ve said since she’s been here, which seems like a
lifetime”