Wyoming Wildfire (48 page)

Advancing with a dignity and outward calm she didn’t feel, Sibyl was certain the clerk was wondering what a decent woman was doing in a public hotel at such an early hour. But she need not have worried. He was too bemused to think of anything but the loveliness of the sight before him.

“Excuse me,” she said, approaching the desk, “but I wish to send a message to one of your guests. Could you tell me how this is done?” Her voice sounded calm and controlled, but beneath her skirts her knees were shaking badly.

“That depends, miss, on whether the party is up yet.”

“I’m sure he is,” Sibyl said, wondering why she hadn’t thought of that herself. Burch always rose before dawn at the ranch, but there was no reason for him to do so now.

“I’ll have to see if William is free to take a message. You can wait in there,” the clerk said, indicating a heavily masculine room across the hall from the desk.

“I’d prefer to wait here if you don’t mind, and could you please hurry.” Sibyl looked around, wondering how soon it would be before someone who knew her aunt and uncle came in and recognized her.

“I’ll do my best, miss, but I can’t leave the desk, and nobody moves very fast this early.” He took a piece of paper from his desk and handed it to Sibyl. “Would you prefer to write your own message?”

“Yes, thank you” Sibyl replied, glad that someone was thinking of all the things she was too upset to think of for herself.

“You’d better use my desk,” the clerk said, moving away to allow Sibyl to sit down. She was reluctant to enter his cubicle but realized she couldn’t write standing up. She sat down and dipped the pen in ink, but it dried before she could think of what words to use. Uncomfortably aware of the passing time and that the clerk had returned and was standing at her shoulder, she hastily scribbled a few words, blotted the page, and handed him the note.

“Have someone take it as soon as possible,” she said, making haste to move out of the cubicle. . “Who is it for?” he asked, indicating that Sibyl had forgotten to put any name on the outside of the note.

“Oh, how stupid of me,” she apologized nervously. “It’s for Mr. Burch Randall.” The clerk’s gaze, always alert, became positively intent. Sibyl needed all her courage to keep from slinking away. Given Burch’s good looks and general appearance, the clerk was bound to think that any woman coming to a hotel in search of a man of his stamp was no lady. But she had misinterpreted his look.

“Just a minute,” he said, consulting a heavy book
with
large untidy writing over three quarters of one page. He looked up from the book, his eyes so bright Sibyl found herself ready to run away and risk asking her uncle to come. “Mr. Randall left the hotel last night.”

“Where did he go? When is he coming back?”

“He’s not coming back, he’s checked out of his suite. I say, miss, are you all right?” Sibyl had turned pale and staggered as though struck a blow. She reached out to grasp the counter to steady herself. Slowly the room stopped moving and the concerned face of the clerk came back into focus.

“Are you sure it was Mr. Randall and not someone else who left?”

“Yes, miss, it would be hard to miss one like him. What with every female in the place panting like they had run up three flights of steps, and falling over themselves to see that he had towels and a pitcher of fresh water, I’d have to be blind not to notice him. Mighty generous he was, too.”

In the moments of stunned silence that followed, Sibyl was unaware that she held out her hand and the clerk had placed the note in it. Why had Burch left so quickly? She had expected him to wait a few more days, to make at least one more attempt to change her mind. It never occurred to her, even though she knew he would never beg, that he would just turn around and go back home. She left the hotel, her eyes staring blindly ahead, her heart thumping painfully, and her spirits sinking rapidly.

The cold morning air helped to clear her wits, and she walked faster, fearful that someone would see her before she could reach her aunt’s house. Why hadn’t he waited one more day? She couldn’t remember his saying anything about going back home. If he loved her as much as he said, would he have given up so easily? Maybe he had changed his mind and decided that Emma was less trouble than a female who demanded to have her way in everything, one who ran away and had to be chased after.

Thinking of Emma caused her a pang. She finally was able to believe he didn’t love her, but no man wants to live alone, and if nothing better offered itself, Burch was bound to make the best of it and settle for what he could get. That thought alone made Sibyl’s knees knock.

She was sure Emma would never argue about when to take the steers to market or how to use the hay meadows or whether it was a good idea to buy a windmill. But Emma wouldn’t bother about the Elkhorn, either. The corners of the rooms would soon be dusty and cobwebs would hang from every ceiling. Tears in the chair covers would go unnoticed and the dog’s paw marks would remain on the polished wood floors for weeks at a time. Worst of all, Burch would sit down to dinners even worse than Sanchez’s. Emma had admitted she knew nothing about cooking and was not anxious to learn.

Sibyl’s step became more firm, her stride increased in length. She had to go back to the Elkhorn, she had to tell Burch that she loved him and wanted to be his wife. The last thing he told her before he left was that she was always welcome to return if she liked. Well, she wanted to return, she
had
to, but not as a guest.

Chapter 32

Sibyl finished the last of her packing. The sun was up and she guessed the family was sitting down at the breakfast table now. She looked around the room one more time to make sure she hadn’t forgotten anything, and suddenly the familiarity made her feel almost like she was back at the Elkhorn. The pit of her stomach was queasy with excitement now that the long period of doubt was over. She felt like she hadn’t been really alive during these last weeks, just existing in a state of helpless confusion. Only now could she see how thoroughly that helplessness had affected her, how it had made her indecisive and vacillating. She didn’t feel helpless any longer, but she still didn’t relish facing her aunt; Louisa was not going to be pleased with her decision.

The younger children had already finished when Sibyl reached the table. Jessica was on the verge of leaving as well but decided to stay when she saw her cousin.

“You almost missed breakfast, but Mama said we were to let you sleep.”

“I don’t want anything but some coffee,” Sibyl said, going to the sideboard for a cup.

“Mama said you didn’t sleep well,” persisted Jessica, anxious for any tidbit of information Sibyl would let drop.

“I hope it doesn’t show. Are my eyes sunken and black?”

“You always look beautiful and you know it,” Jessica said enviously. “When is your cousin going to visit us again? I wonder if I should call him my cousin? After all, he is your cousin, and I’m your cousin, so maybe we are all cousins.”

“You’re not close enough for it to make any difference,” Louisa said, entering the room and interrupting the monologue. “Let Sibyl have her breakfast in peace.”

“She’s not having anything but coffee,”

“I imagine she’d enjoy that a lot more without this constant barrage of impertinent questions. You need to talk to Dolly about which dresses you want to take to Richmond. She will need time to get them ready to be packed. There’s always too much to do at the last minute to be worrying over whether you forgot your favorite frock.”

“I hope you aren’t planning to go to Richmond solely on my account,” Sibyl said uncomfortably. Her aunt looked at her in mild curiosity and Jessica, thinking that she would hear nothing of more interest, rose to leave.

“Not entirely.”

“Good, for I’ve decided not to go.”

Jessica stopped in her tracks, and there was a long pause as her aunt’s gaze grew more intent.

Sibyl couldn’t endure the scrutiny. “I’m going back to the Elkhorn.”

Louisa’s stare became positively intimidating. I’ve already bought my tickets,” Sibyl rushed ahead. “My train leaves at noon.”

“You can’t be serious,” observed her Uncle Henry, looking up from his paper.

“Are you really going to marry your cousin?” Jessica asked, eyes wide in astonishment.

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t you tell me last night?” demanded Louisa. “When did you tell him?”

Sibyl didn’t answer.

“He doesn’t know, does he?” asked Louisa in a flat voice.

“No, not yet.”

“Good, because you’re not going.”

“I know what I told you last night, but I’ve changed my mind, and I know I’ve done the right thing this time.”

“And how’s that?” asked her uncle doubtfully.

“I can just feel it. Before I was miserable with any decision I made. I wanted it and didn’t want it at the same time. I was angry because of what I lost, unable to appreciate what I had, and upset that anything like this would happen to me.”

“I’ve never heard such gibberish in my life,” avowed Henry impatiently.

“What made you change your mind?” Louisa asked with a set, unrelenting expression.

“Grandmother Hauxhurst.”

“Grandmother?” exclaimed Jessica. “But she’s dead.”

“I didn’t mean her, I meant her diary.”

“Mother never kept a diary,” Louisa contradicted her niece categorically.

“Yes, she did. I found it at the bottom of the trunk under the blankets. It was wrapped in a white wool shawl, the one that looks like lace.”

Louisa’s eyes cleared with memory. “I can’t remember that Mother ever used that shawl after Augusta was a little girl.”

“She stopped writing in the diary when Augusta was two. That must have been when she hid it in the trunk.”

“Bother all that,” interrupted Jessica impatiently. “What did it say?”

“Nothing that could have any bearing on this appalling melodrama,” stated Louisa crushingly. “My mother was an extremely practical woman.”

“But you’re wrong,” Sibyl insisted.

“Are you implying that I didn’t understand my own mother?” demanded Louisa, her wrath beginning to rise.

“I don’t think any of us did, including grandfather.”

“Young lady, I always did deplore the manner in which your father thought fit to raise you. You are stubborn, unable to determine when you’ve gone too far for good taste, and shockingly impulsive. But never, until now, have you been grossly rude.”

“But you’ve never read the diary, or you’d understand.”

“I
do not read the diaries of others,” Louisa stated in awful disdain.

“Neither do I,” returned Sibyl, her own temper flaring, “but I found it by accident. I didn’t even know what it was at first.”

“I don’t see how that changes the situation.”

“It does,” Sibyl insisted, “but that’s not what I wanted to tell you.” Her excitement caused her to forget her anger. “Grandmother started keeping the diary when she met Grandfather. Their whole courtship is there. Her parents disapproved of Grandfather even more than you disapprove of Burch. He was a wild American they didn’t trust. Worse still, he was one of those unstable Southern plantation owners who was uncivilized enough to own slaves and was descended from some conscienceless ne’er-do-well who engaged in duels and practiced piracy on the high seas. Grandmother’s father was a stolid, prosperous banker and totally against his only daughter marrying an uncouth foreigner.”

“I’m quite familiar with the family history, thank you,” said Louisa, unplacated, “but I was never aware that my father was ever referred to as an “uncouth foreigner” by anyone.”

“Your grandfather said that and a lot more,” Sibyl said ruefully. “He forbade Grandmother to see him and even threatened to lock her in her room, or send her to live in the country, if she so much as spoke to him. She was reduced to visiting friends if she wanted to see him. Grandfather was all for having it out with her parents, but Grandmother wouldn’t let him.”

“I should think not,” responded Louisa, horrified.

“But Grandfather loved her and wanted her to come to Virginia with him. Grandmother didn’t know anything about America, and her father told her it was a country filled with savage Indians, filthy slaves, and crude whites. Her friends described the horrors of a sea journey in such terrifying detail she was scared to death to even think of setting foot on a ship. Her father even threatened never to see her again if she married against his wishes.”

“Nonsense. Grandfather Gershom brought Grandmother to visit in Virginia twice.”

“Grandmother was so confused she hardly knew what to do,” Sibyl continued, “but when Grandfather came to tell her it was time for him to return to America, she knew immediately that nothing else mattered if she was with him. She trusted him to take care of her regardless of how strange the country or peculiar its customs.”

“I never heard any of that,” gushed Jessica, awed.

“Nor anyone else,” remarked Louisa crushingly.

“But how does this highly improbably tale affect you?” Uncle Henry wanted to know.

“Don’t you see, my problem has been that I was afraid to believe Burch.”