Wyoming Wildfire (47 page)

Sibyl realized that the question at issue was no longer one of love, that the decision was no longer subject to compromise. She had touched Burch in a place where he would not,
could
not give in to her, not even for his own happiness. And it frightened her terribly.

“When my daddy died, Aunt Augusta was the only person I trusted. I can’t explain to you how I felt. I’ve never been able to explain it to anyone here, but I felt desperate to get away from Lexington. I never looked for love, I don’t even think I wanted it, certainly not the kind Kendrick offered.

“Then I met you and everything changed. Things went too far, too fast, and before I had time to think, I had given myself to you and plunged heedlessly into love.”

“Did you regret it?”

“I never stopped to ask myself that. I was too afraid it wouldn’t last. I didn’t ask you for promises because I was afraid you wouldn’t give them; I didn’t confide in anyone because I was afraid they would tell me I was a fool. You see, I never suspected how much I needed to be loved. I’d always pretended I didn’t care, but you destroyed my defenses.”

“You make me sound like a sneaking thief. I loved you honorably. I want to marry you.”

“You didn’t at first, and I never forgot that.”

“But that was because I didn’t know you.”

“I thought it didn’t make any difference. I did everything I could for you, but I never entirely forgot. Then Emma came and everything fell apart. You seemed to enjoy her company in a way you never enjoyed mine.”

“Emma’s like one of the boys.”

“If you think Emma is the least bit like a boy, then I wonder what you thought of me,” she said cuttingly.

“It’s not the same.”

“How is it different? She’s a woman, and she wanted you. I knew it the minute she stepped inside the door.”

“I won’t go through all that again. I don’t want Emma and that’s the end of it. I love you and I want to marry you. You’re the most important thing in my life, even more important than the Elkhorn. I never thought I would be able to say that, but it comes easy now. The whole time I was following the line I thought of nothing but you, of going back and finding you there, warm and welcoming. I rehearsed what I was going to say dozens of times. I thought of presents to give you, of promises to make, but most of all I thought of you in my arms, inviting and loving. I nearly went crazy when you weren’t there.

“And what did I run into? Emma going on about one thing after another, Balaam baiting her, and Rachel sitting silent as a sentinel. It was all I could do to keep from rushing off to Augusta right then and there. You can’t imagine what a blow it was to find out she had no more idea than I did why you’d run off. But she said you loved me, and that if I wanted you, I would have to come after you. I did want you, and I did come. Was your aunt right? Do you love me?” The question was simple and direct.

“With all my heart, but I can’t go back with you.”

“Why?” he asked softly.

“I just can’t.” She dropped her gaze. “I want to believe you, but I can’t.”

“Not ever?”

“No,” she whispered. There was a long silence that Sibyl didn’t dare break. Burch’s eyes never left her face, the terrifying intensity of his gaze never relented. Sibyl felt the pressure building within her until she was sure she would shatter into a thousand pieces, but she didn’t dare move, didn’t dare utter a sound.

“I guess if there’s nothing more to say, there are a couple of things we have to settle.”

“What?” she asked, barely attending him as she saw her dreams turning to dust all around her.

“Nearly everything in the house is yours. You’ll be needing it soon.”

“I’ll write telling you what I need,” she said in a halting voice. “You can keep anything else or send it to Aunt Augusta.” Could this really be happening? Was he really going to send everything back?

“Then there’s the matter of the herd.”

“What do I want with a herd of cows? I don’t even have a farm to put them on.”

“Then I’ll pay you for them,” he said, taking out his wallet. “How much are they worth?”

“I don’t know” she said vacantly. How could she be thinking of the price of cows when her whole life was coming to pieces. “I don’t care what they’re worth.”

“I must pay you something.”

“I don’t want your money. Keep them, divide them with Lasso, or give them away if you want. I don’t care.”

“I won’t be held by blackmail,” he said in a steely voice he’d never used with her. He walked over to a table and briefly wrote on a piece of paper. This is a draft on my bank. If it’s not enough, I’ll pay you more.”

“I told you I didn’t want your money,” Sibyl cried shrilly. She snatched the paper he held out to her and frantically tore it into tiny pieces. “There! That’s what I think of your money.”

“Either you take it, or I’ll ship them to you the minute I get back.”

“Why can’t I give them to the ranch?” she asked. “It’s half mine.”

“Because I own the other half.” He was inflexible.

“Have the lawyers work it out,” she said, too tired to argue any longer. They can include it in my share of the profits.”

“Won’t you reconsider?” Sibyl knew he was a proud man. This was her only chance to change her mind; he would
never
ask her again.

She shook her head, unable to speak.

“You’ll always be welcome at the Elkhorn. When you visit your aunt, I hope you’ll come see us as well.” He moved away from her toward the door. She did not dare to look up or let him see the haunted, devastated look in her eyes. She heard the door open. “You could have trusted me,” he said softly and closed the door after him.

Sibyl burst into tears.

Chapter 31

It was no use. Sibyl’s body was too taut and her mind in too much of a turmoil to sleep. In the hours since Burch had left she had gone over every word, every gesture of their conversation, looking for some reason to believe him, some excuse to change her mind, and every time she reached the same conclusion, only to have her heart rebel and the tears start again. She could not face the thought of never seeing him again. When he was with her, she could be firm and do what she knew was right, but as soon as he was gone, her resolution failed and her heart took over. You love him, it kept saying; don’t be a fool, nothing else matters. She tried to reason with herself, but the refrain kept growing louder and more insistent until it was like a drumbeat in her temples. Don’t be a fool, you love him. Don’t be a fool, you love him! She threw back the covers and got out of bed.

Sibyl paced the floor, so absorbed in her thoughts that she didn’t hear her aunt enter the room. Louisa’s face had lost some of its formality. She looked anxious and a little troubled.

“Can’t sleep?” she asked unnecessarily.

“Not a wink.”

“Want to talk?”

“It won’t do any good.”

“Why don’t you try? It can’t hurt.”

“There’s nothing to talk about. I know what I have to do, I just have to learn to accept it. I never thought I’d act like a silly little girl over some smashed dream.”

“All of us, even very tough, stubborn, young ladies like you, have our dreams, and it hurts when they die.”

“But it’s so stupid. I know I made the right decision, but I lie here going over every word I said, and when I reach the same conclusion, I start to cry all over again.” At that her tears started. “See? If I keep this up, my eyes will be so swollen everyone will think I’m sick.”

“If you keep torturing yourself, you
will
be sick. You’ve got to get your mind on something else so you can rest. It’s going to hurt for a long time, but it will be a lot worse if you give in to it. Do you want me to fix you some warm milk? It’ll help you sleep.”

“That
would
make me sick,” Sibyl said with a watery chuckle. “I detest warm milk.”

“How about some tea?”

“No thanks, I think I’ll read for a little while. That usually puts me to sleep.”

“Okay, but if you plan to sit up for very long, throw a blanket over you. The house is chilled through. There are some extra ones in
the
trunk.”

“I will. And don’t worry about me, I’ll be all right.”

“I know that. I just don’t like to see you so unhappy.”

“I should be used to that by now,” she replied with a bleak smile. “I wasn’t very happy before.”

“I remember, and I tried to talk to your father several times, but he never had a thought to spare for anything but his dratted books.”

“Daddy didn’t like people very much. Maybe he had the right idea.”

“Hush. I’ll have no more of that kind of talk. You get bundled up and get back in bed before you catch cold. Things ae going to be better soon, you’ll see.”

“Thank you for putting up with me” Sibyl said, giving her aunt a hug. “I don’t know what I would have done without you.”

“There’s no reason for you to be without the support of your family. You’ve been deserted by both my sisters, so I guess it’s up to me to see that you are not alone now.” Louisa looked as though she might cry too, but she blinked determinedly and her habitual control reasserted itself. “Try to put it all out of your mind and get some sleep. Good night.”

For a long while after Louisa left, Sibyl sat staring vacantly before her. Finally she jerked herself out of her abstraction and went over to an ancient wooden chest with hammered metal straps, which sat in the corner. Fitting the key in the lock, she lifted the heavy lid and the pungent odor of cedar assailed her nostrils. The trunk was only half full. Sibyl lifted out one quilt and then another, but rejected both as too thick and heavy; she passed over several blankets of coarse wool and horsehair because they were too hot and scratchy. Then at the bottom, tucked down in one corner, she found what she wanted—a lacy shawl made of soft lamb’s wool. But when she lifted it out of the trunk, a thin volume fell to the floor.

Sibyl started to return the book to the trunk, but the blue marbled covers and calf binding stamped with gold letters caught her attention. She flipped it open and was surprised to find no title page, no printed words at all. Intrigued, she thumbed through several pages and found that all of them were written over in a small but elaborately decorative hand. Turning to the end, she found the last dozen pages free, and she backed up to read the last entry.

March 8th—Celebrated Augusta’s second birthday with a party for all her friends. Louisa and Cornelia went to town with their father.

Her grandmother’s diary! She wondered if anyone knew about it. The shawl probably hadn’t been unpacked since Mary Ann Gershom Hauxhurst died three years earlier, just six months after the death of her beloved husband. Sibyl had adored her petite English grandmother, so she took the book over to a chair, wrapped the shawl tightly around her shoulders, and settled down to read from the beginning.

Several hours later, more awake than ever, Sibyl closed the book. Her eyes glowed with a strange fire and her body felt like it was being pricked by thousands of tiny needles. She was so excited by what she had read that she couldn’t sit still. Jumping up from her chair, she walked briskly about the room, a happy smile of anticipation on her lips. She ran over to the window and looked out. The first gray streaks of dawn were visible over the hills behind the house. In less than an hour it would be light. In less than an hour she would be on her way to find Burch, to tell him that she had changed her mind. She was going back to him and the Elkhorn after all.

Unbelievable relief and a wonderful feeling of contentment spread through her whole being as she climbed into bed. The room was ice cold now, and her chattering teeth distracted her from the problem of how she was going to break the news to her aunt. She doubted Louisa would understand, but it didn’t matter now. Her grandmother had explained to her what she couldn’t see for herself. Why hadn’t she been told of the courage and determination of that tiny English lady who spoiled her so cheerfully when she was a little girl? But for this accidental discovery, she would have let her own fears ruin her chance for happiness.

She could hardly wait to tell Burch, to see his face when she told him about the diary. He would probably still be angry with her, but she never doubted he would forgive her.

Sibyl looked nervously about her as she approached the entrance to the Grand Union Hotel. She dared not think of what Louisa would say when she learned that Sibyl had gone to a hotel by herself, but she could think of no other way to get a message to Burch without letting her aunt know what she meant to do. Louisa was not a harsh mistress, but the servants would never think of keeping anything from her. Why couldn’t Henry have been born first instead of Jessica? Boys could go anywhere without being questioned.

Sibyl gathered her courage and walked into the dark interior. It was too early for the porters to be on duty, and as yet there was no one in the lobby. A single clerk sat behind the desk snoring softly, his chair leaned against the wall. The clack of Sibyl’s heels on the marble floor caused him to jerk awake, and he stared foolishly at her, rubbing his eyes in disbelief at the sudden appearance of such an astonishing vision.