Beyond All Measure (35 page)

She looked into his sea-blue eyes. All she saw reflected there was honesty. And love.

“I’m not Edward,” he said, his expression fierce. “I won’t leave. I love you.”

“I know.” It came out as a whisper.

He released her. “You think you’re the only one taking a risk? What if you take one look at Texas and decide to get the next train back to Boston? What if you start resenting me for taking you to edge of earth? Don’t you think it would kill me if you up and left?”

“Wyatt, please. It isn’t only about—”

“Listen. Life is full of risks. But if you try to build a fence around all your fears, you’ll shut out joy too.”

She couldn’t bear the raw emotions playing over his face. She scrambled to her feet and ran along the slippery trail, painful sobs catching in her throat.

Wyatt quickly overtook her and turned her around. “I thought your plan was always to leave Hickory Ridge. Now that I’m offering you that chance, you keep throwing out obstacles.”

“That’s what I’m trying to tell you. It isn’t only about me and what I want. I have Sophie to consider.”

That stopped him—for a second. “Sophie?”

“She’s come so far. She reads as well as I do. Her handwriting is a hundred percent better. And she’s talented with needle and thread. I can’t abandon her now.”

Wyatt cocked one hip and pushed his Stetson to the back of his head. “Mercy, darlin’, but you drive a hard bargain. Just what do you have in mind? A boarding school back east, maybe?”

Ada plucked a sprig of wild blooms and held it to her nose. “I don’t want to push her into some other cold institution. I’ve been thinking that when I decide my own future, I’ll take her with me.”

“You mean adopt her?”

“I don’t know what the laws are down here. But it isn’t as if Mrs. Lowell will go to any trouble to place her elsewhere.”

Wyatt let out an exasperated sigh. “All right, then. We’ll take her with us.”

Ada studied him. “But you don’t want to. Not really.”

“Raising a child is a big responsibility.”

She tossed the flower away. “But you’ve often said you wanted sons and daughters. Just the other night you said—”

“That’s different.”

“Because Sophie is a mulatto.” She felt a jolt of disappointment. She’d never thought Wyatt would hold Sophie’s background against her. Maybe she’d been wrong about him after all.

“That isn’t fair, Ada. You know me better than that. But I’ve always thought our children would be of our blood. Our love. Maybe that’s selfish of me, but I won’t lie to you about how I feel.”

Ada looked up at him, tears shimmering in her eyes. Oh, what she wouldn’t give to have everything be different!

“But look,” he added. “I’m not saying I’m totally against the idea. I never thought of it before, that’s all. I have to get used to it. We could—”

“Wyatt, I can’t marry you.” She blurted it out, so heartbroken she could barely form the words. “As much as I love you, and as hard as it is to say it, I . . . can’t. And I won’t keep you guessing, wondering whether I’ll change my mind. It wouldn’t be fair.”

He went completely still. His blue eyes were so dark they appeared black. “I see.”

Above the distant rush of the waterfall, a robin sang. They stood face-to-face, inches away, and a thousand miles apart.

“I’m so sorry,” Ada whispered.

For several minutes he stared out at the greening mountains. Nothing moved. Insects ticked in the grasses beside the river. “What if I stay?”

She gaped at him. “What are you saying?”

“You heard me. What if I keep the mill? Forget about Texas. Adopt Sophie. What then?”

She was stunned. She’d never imagined such devotion even existed. “You love me that much? To give up everything you’ve ever wanted?”

“Yes, darlin’. May the saints help me, I do.”

Fresh tears rolled down her face. “Oh, I
hate
this! And I hate that still I must say no. Not because I don’t love you, but because I do!”

He frowned. “Come again?”

“From the first day we met, you’ve talked about that ranch. If I made you give it up, sooner or later you’d hate me for it.”

“No, I wouldn’t—”

“You would! Maybe you wouldn’t want to, but you couldn’t help it. You wouldn’t be the same man if I forced you to stay.” She felt as if her heart had actually shattered into a million little pieces. She put her face in her hands and sobbed.

His arms came around her. She clung to him and cried, weak with grief and regret. She hated that she was so full of mistrust and doubt. But she couldn’t force herself to feel differently and she couldn’t ask Wyatt to wait until she did.

Wyatt held her and let her cry until all her tears were spent. She leaned against him feeling numb and hollowed out. Finally she pulled away from him and dried her eyes. “I’ll make arrangements to move out of Lillian’s house. I’ve already stayed longer than I intended.”

“There’s no hurry. You know that.”

“I do, and I’m grateful. But under the circumstances, I think it’s best if I go.”

They started back along the path.

“Where will you go?” he finally asked.

“The Verandah, I suppose. Until I can make more permanent arrangements. Norah Dudley offered me the chance to buy her shop. I’ll speak to the banker next week.”

“If you need a loan—”

She shook her head. “My father was terrible at taking his own advice, but he always said that before borrowing money from a friend, one should consider which is needed more. I’d much rather have you as a friend than a creditor.”

They gathered their belongings and returned to the rig. Wyatt was silent on the drive home through the warm spring afternoon. Ada took in the set of his jaw, the planes of his tanned face, the way his strong hands handled the reins. She loved him. Loved the virtues of his heart—patience, compassion, kindness. She could live to be a hundred and never find another who would love her like Wyatt did. But she had made her choice. Perhaps one day he would see it was best for both of them.

He drove into the yard and stopped. Ada stepped out of the rig and reached behind him for the basket. She went inside while he tended to Smoky and led him into the barn. Through the kitchen window, she saw him leading Cherokee into the yard. The realization that she might never see him again sat like an anvil on her heart.

He came into the hallway, turning his Stetson in his hands. All the light seemed to have gone out of him. “I think I’ll head back to Chicago in the morning, wait around for the papers to be signed. I’m not sure how long I’ll be gone.”

“All right.” Her eyes went hot with fresh tears.

“Let me know when you’re ready to go, and I’ll send someone to help you move your things.”

“I don’t have much, but I’d appreciate that.”

He nodded. “Good-bye, Ada.”

Watching him mount Cherokee, she felt her heart slip its moorings, disconnecting her from the one person in the world who mattered most. She leaned against the door and sobbed.

THIRTY-TWO

The railway-station clock read ten o’clock precisely as Ada halted her rig outside the bank. Already, Hickory Ridge buzzed with activity. Travelers milled about outside Nate Chastain’s bookshop, waiting for it to open, admiring India, who had curled into the sunny window for a nap. Patsy Greer arrived and waved to Ada as she unlocked the door to the
Gazette
office. Farm wives came and went from the bakery and the mercantile.

Ada tethered Smoky and entered the bank. The young man at the front desk looked up from his ledger. “Good morning. May I help you?”

“I’m Ada Wentworth. Mr. Gilman is expecting me.”

“He’s up the street at the barber’s, getting a shave, but he’ll be back shortly. Please follow me.”

He rose and led Ada past the teller’s cage to a small office in the back. He raised the window shade, letting in the morning sunlight, and motioned her into a chair. “Make yourself comfortable.”

Ada smoothed the folds of her skirt and tried to calm her nerves. She’d spent all night going over her figures, hoping the banker would grant her the loan that was her last hope of remaining solvent. In the months since she’d been attacked on the road, she’d received only one more hat order. She wasn’t certain whether it was a sign of the worsening economic times Norah Dudley had mentioned or whether potential customers were afraid to do business with her. She had banked the three months’ pay Wyatt gave her after Lillian’s death, but it wouldn’t last forever. She would need more to tide her over until she could figure out what came next.

She looked around the banker’s well-appointed office. A floralpatterned rug covered the wide plank floor. Framed hunting scenes hung on the wall behind a massive cherrywood desk. A table beneath the window held a small gold clock and a stack of leather-bound books. The room smelled faintly of tobacco and the same brand of hair tonic Edward had used.

She shook her head. It wouldn’t do to think of Edward now.

The bell above the door emitted a faint chime. The banker strode into the room and greeted her with the same brisk efficiency as the bankers and lawyers who had overseen the dismantling of her family’s estate.

“Miss Wentworth.” The banker’s voice was hearty. “Sorry to keep you waiting. My barber was a bit long-winded this morning.” He sat down in his chair and smiled at her across the desk. “The whole town is talking about the sale of the mill and what it means for Two Creeks.”

So. The deal was done. Ada swallowed the knot in her throat. She hadn’t spoken to Wyatt in two weeks. It felt like a year.

Mr. Gilman reached into a drawer and brought out a leather folder. He cleared his throat. “Now, what can I do for you?”

“I—I want to take out a loan. To purchase the dress shop.”

“I see.”

“I intend to sell off Mrs. Dudley’s inventory and convert the space to a hat shop.”

He picked up a pen and opened the folder. “And how much of the purchase price will you need to borrow?”

“Actually, all of it. Or almost all of it, anyway. I’ve only been here a short time, you see, but I’ve filled quite a few orders already.” She opened her bag and handed him the sheet she’d prepared detailing her expenses and income over the past months.

The banker glanced at it and set it aside. “I’m afraid you don’t understand the enormity of what you’d be taking on, Miss Wentworth. The annual interest alone would amount to more than you’ve earned. In addition, there’s the cost of supplies, advertising, taxes. Have you considered all that?”

She shook her head and clasped her hands so hard her knuckles turned white. He was turning her down.

“Do you have any collateral?” He pushed her paper back across the desk. “That is, anything of substantial value to secure the loan?”

“I know what collateral is. And no, I haven’t any.”

He shook his head. “That’s too bad. My advice is to wait until you can show a larger profit. Perhaps in another year or two—”

“But how can I expand my business without a proper space and without enough money to buy supplies?”

He waved one hand dismissively. Clearly, he didn’t care one whit whether or not she survived. “If we lent money to people in positions as precarious as yours, this bank would go under inside of a year. Perhaps there’s a male relative, someone who’d be willing to be responsible for you?”

“No. There’s no one.” She rose, willing herself not to cry.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t be more helpful.” He got up to walk her out, and Ada saw a spot of shaving lather that had dried behind his ear. Somehow it made him seem a bit more human.

He opened the door. “I want to thank you for encouraging the Hargrove boy to make something of himself. My daughter is bound and determined to marry him someday. I’d hate to see her tied to someone who couldn’t provide for her properly.”

Ada pulled on her gloves. “There’s more to a good match than money, Mr. Gilman.”

He nodded. “I know. But Sabrina is my only daughter. I couldn’t live with myself if I stood by and let her make a mistake.” He smiled. “You know how fathers are about their little girls. We want them to have the best of everything.”

As long as they get to decide what’s best!
She shook his hand and hurried from the bank before he could see the tears that threatened to destroy the last shred of her dignity. On the sidewalk, she paused to compose herself before heading to the mercantile. Lately she hadn’t had much of an appetite or the energy to make meals only for herself. But yesterday she’d used the last of the tea and flour, and she was nearly out of oil for the lamps.

She retrieved her shopping basket from the rig and pushed open the door to the mercantile. Jasper Pruitt sat on a stool at the counter, adding up a column of figures. He looked up and nodded. “Anything I can help you find?”

She gave him her order. He slid off his stool and headed to the back. While he weighed out tea and flour, she picked up a tin of lard and a small round of cheese and took them to the counter.

Jasper returned and shook his head. “You don’t want that cheese. It’s about to go moldy. I’ve got some better in the back.” He left and returned with a fresh round.

“Thank you. That’s very kind.”

“No trouble.” He added up the total. “You want to put this on your tab?”

She shook her head and handed him a bill and a handful of coins. “Mr. Pruitt—”

“Jasper.”

She smiled. “I never had the chance to thank you properly for coming to my aid on the road. I’m very grateful for your help.”

He flushed. “That’s all right. Anybody else woulda done the same.”

“Perhaps. But I’m grateful nevertheless.” She headed for the door. Jasper lifted one hand in a little wave and went back to his work.

She drove home, unhitched Smoky, and turned him into the pasture. Then she put the kettle on for tea and set to work on a wedding hat for the mayor’s niece. It was an elaborate confection of white netting and lace, just the sort of job she normally relished, but now the joy had gone out of everything.

She wondered about Wyatt. Was he still in Chicago after all this time or back at the mill? Maybe he’d already left for Texas and his new life. Did he think of her at all, or had he put her out of his mind?