Cowboy For Hire (41 page)

Charlie heaved
a huge sigh. “Yeah.” He’d believed they were. Then Amy had told him
she didn’t want a poor man who hadn’t established himself, and his
whole life had gone straight to hell. That was before Karen
Crenshaw tracked him down. He felt an almost imperceptible
lightening in his heart.

Good old Karen.
And what she’d told him made sense. Sort of. Charlie figured it was
worth another try, anyhow, and he was going to give it in
Chicago.

* * *

A balmy
breeze blew through the Ocean Rest Pavilion, gently scenting the
air with the heavenly aroma of honeysuckle. Everything around the
pavilion was green and gorgeous, and it was a practically perfect
July day in Pasadena, California.

It would be
perfect altogether if Amy Wilkes weren’t dreading the job she had
steeled herself to do. She knew she had to. She’d been putting it
off like the coward she knew herself to be, but Karen had given her
a pep talk the day before, and Amy was determined.

Thanks to
Karen, too, Amy had also concluded that it wasn’t shame that
propelled her. True, she felt odd about having slept with Charlie
Fox when she was all but affianced to Vernon, but she wasn’t
ashamed of it. Sleeping with Charlie had been an expression of deep
and abiding love, and she cherished the memory. If she had her way,
she’d have the opportunity innumerable times to experience the
exquisite sensations he’d evoked within her.

There was,
however, no gainsaying the will of Providence, and Amy might not
get her way. The notion made her insides cramp painfully.
Nevertheless, she aimed to do what she had to do, and she aimed to
do it now.

She fingered
the sash at her waist nervously and bowed her head. She sat up very
straight in the white wicker chair, because Vernon approved of good
posture. She knew very well that she was going to irk him plenty,
and she owed it to him not to look slouchy as she did it.

“I’m terribly
sorry, Vernon, but I can’t marry you.”

She sneaked a
peek at Vernon and immediately bowed her head again. She didn’t
want to watch him get furious with her; listening to him was going
to be bad enough.

“
Amy!
How can you
say such a thing to me?”

“Not very
easily,” she told him honestly. “But it wouldn’t be fair to you if
I agreed to be your wife.”

“And why not?
Do you think some other, more knightly man is going to come along
on a white charger and carry you away to a castle somewhere?”

“
Please
don’t be sarcastic, Vernon. This is difficult for me,
too.”

He huffed.

Amy
licked her lips and tried to explain without bringing Charlie Fox
into the room with the two of them. In this case, three would
definitely be a crowd. “You see, I’ve given it a lot of thought,
and I’ve come to understand that I could never be the sort of wife
you need.”

“I believe I am
the best judge of that,” Vernon said coldly.

“You’re the
best judge of what you want in a wife, Vernon, but I don’t believe
I’m it.”

“Nonsense.”

“Oh, dear.” Amy
had expected him to be upset, but he was clearly outraged, which
was more than she’d bargained for. She guessed she’d forgotten that
Vernon didn’t like to lose. And, although Amy doubted that he loved
her, he’d assuredly be angry about losing her. “I’m so sorry about
this. But after pondering it and praying over it and worrying about
it for weeks, I feel I must put an end to your hopes for a marriage
between us.”

“It is typical
of a female,” said Vernon in his icily controlled voice, “to feel
rather than to think. Ii suppose it’s because women are unable to
think critically.”

Amy tried not
to resent that, because she knew she’d never given him any reason
to think of her as a reflective person. She’d always agreed with
him, no matter what trash he spouted. He surely never believed that
she’d mount a rebellion or oppose his will. Until this minute. It
must be a terrible shock to him to learn she had a mind of her own
and a will of her own after all the time he’d spent thinking of her
as someone he could mold to his wishes.

Overall, Amy
believed she’d like him better if he got mad and hollered like
lesser men did, instead of continuing his cold, rigid pose, which
was quite off-putting. She sighed heavily.

Vernon’s
lips set into a tight line. “That being the case, I believe that
you—all women—ought to be prudent and take advice from the men who
have your interests at heart. You’re evidently unable to determine
those things for yourself.”

She eyed
him slantways.
Did
he have her
interests at heart? Amy doubted it. “Um ... I don’t think it’s
possible for you to do that, Vernon, since you don’t really know
me. You certainly don’t know me well enough to be able to assess my
best interests.”

“
Don’t
know
you?”
Vernon’s light blue eyes fairly started from his head. “I’ve known
you since you were a child! And I’ve never held your background
against you, either, no matter how sordid it is. I’ve never once
mentioned your squalid beginnings. You have to admit that, Amy,
because it’s truth.”

She blinked,
astonished. “Good heavens, Vernon, I wish you had mentioned this
before. I had no idea you thought I was so far beneath you.”

He frowned.
“Well, honestly, being impoverished and abandoned by one’s parents
is not something one chats about every day, as if it were
nothing.”

“My parents
couldn’t very well help abandoning me. They died, if you’ll
recall.” Amy heard the acidity in her voice and hoped Vernon
wouldn’t.

He
didn’t. She ought to have expected as much. He waved her objection
aside with his hand. “I discussed the matter with my parents a long
time ago, and they agreed with me that as long as it’s not an
episode people are likely to talk about, it won’t become a problem
or interfere with our position in society.”

Our
position in society
. Good grief. Anyhow, it was obviously a problem already.
Amy sensed she could never make Vernon understand that. She merely
said calmly, “I’m very sorry, Vernon. I’m sure you don’t
understand, and there’s no way I can make you understand. Just
know, please, that this hurts me. Know also that you will
eventually be very glad that you didn’t marry me, because I’m not
the woman you need as a wife.”

“I can’t
believe I’m hearing this.”

Vernon
did something Amy had never seen him do before. He put a hand to
his forehead. Good heavens, her news must have come as a dreadful
blow if he was becoming animated. She began to wring her hands in
distress. “I’m so
very
sorry,
Vernon.”

“
I see.”
He stood abruptly, causing his chair to skid on the floor—another
indication of his inner turmoil. His outer self looked perfectly
controlled. “I shall have to think about this, Amy, and consult
with my parents. I can’t but believe that you must have lost your
mind.”

“If that will
make you feel better,” Amy murmured, and couldn’t continue. She
felt rotten. “I’m so sorry.”

“Yes, well, I
suppose it’s best to learn now that you’re given to instability an
flights of fancy. Perhaps you’re right that you aren’t the woman I
need for a wife.”

“I’m glad
you’re beginning to understand that.”

She watched him
stalk away from her as if he were a duke and she a lowly vassal who
had displeased him, and she felt heavy, alone, and unhappy. She’d
hurt his feelings, whether he knew it or not, and she didn’t like
herself for it. She’d have liked herself even less if she’d married
him while she was in love with another man.

“I guess this
lets out the Tournament of Roses,” she muttered to herself as she
went inside to resume her duties at the Orange Rest. Soon the
inmates would be arising from their afternoon naps, and she’d be
needed to distribute glasses of orange juice among them.

She had a
momentary mental image of herself as a white-haired woman with
wrinkles and no family, clinging to her job at the Orange Rest
Health Spa because there was nothing else in her life to cling to.
A sharp pang assailed her.

“Stop it!” she
commanded herself.

That
scenario wasn’t in the cards for Amy Wilkes. No, sirree. She and
Karen had talked about it for hours and hours and hours, and, while
Amy would never be as bold and daring as Karen, she wasn’t about to
let herself dwindle into an old maid, either. Not without putting
up a darned good fight, she wasn’t.

She hoped she
was in suitable training. The good Lord knew she’d been
practicing.

* * *

“
Ha!
Martin’s the old maid!” Amy went off into a peal of laughter.
Martin, Karen and Aunt Julia joined in. Julia had never before
played cards and still considered them a relatively sinful pursuit,
but she was lowering herself this once in order to keep from being
bored during the long train journey from Pasadena to Chicago. Amy
appreciated her aunt’s amiability and condescension. Aunt Julia had
always been a brick.

“Phooey,” said
Martin, feigning discouragement. “It’s because the only women I
meet are actresses, and any man would be a fool to marry one of
them.”

“
I don’t
think they’re all so bad,” Amy murmured. “Mr. Huxtable was a fiend,
of course, but I’m sure the actresses who work in pictures can’t
all be that bad.”

“Hmmm,” said
Karen, as if she weren’t sure of it at all.

Julia, to whom the newfangled moving pictures
were a miracle, gazed wide-eyed at her niece and Karen, and at
Martin Tafft, who was the most elegant man she’d ever met. She’d
told Amy so several times.

“I wish Charlie could have come with us,”
Martin went on as he shuffled the cards. “Then
he
could be
stuck as the old maid a couple of times. You three are too slick
for me.”

Karen slipped Amy a worried glance, but Amy
only smiled. “I’m glad he’s not going to miss the premiere,” Karen
said, striving to sound casual. “He performed his role very
well.”

“Yes, he did,” Martin said, dealing out the
Old Maid cards. “And he said he’d be there. We even went out
together and bought him some fancy new clothes to wear.”

Karen murmured something under her breath.
Amy was surprised, too. “My goodness.”

“He’ll look like a Greek god,” Karen declared
dramatically. Occasionally Amy wondered why Karen hadn’t been asked
to perform in the pictures instead of herself.

Martin chuckled. “I don’t know about that.
He’s pretty nervous about it. He looks elegant in his new duds, but
I think he’s more comfortable in denim britches and plain
shirts.”

“Are you finished with the filming of
The
Lone Cowboy?
” Karen asked.

“Yes, we are, and he did a wonderful job. I
wish I could get him to do more pictures for Peerless. He has a
tremendous presence on the screen.” Martin sighed. “But he’d got
other plans.” He brightened a little. “You never know, though. The
money’s good, and he might soften eventually.”

Amy’s heart crunched up a little, but she
didn’t let it show.

“I’ll be so glad to meet him,” declared
Julia, eyeing her cards and putting a pair down on the table. “I’ve
heard so much about him.”

“You have?”

Both Karen and Martin stared at Amy, who
blushed. “I’ve told my aunt about everyone on the set,” she said
defiantly. “It was an exciting adventure for all of us.”

“I’ll say it was.” Karen gave Amy a sly grin,
so Amy kicked her—not hard—under the table.

Julia nodded energetically and drew a card.
“It sounds like it. Especially that floor.” Julia glanced,
bright-eyed, at Karen and Amy. “Imagine my two girls cooking for an
entire cast!”

“I wouldn’t exactly call it cooking,” Amy
temporized, although she was happy that Julia had begun thinking of
Karen as part of the family.

“It was, too,” Karen said firmly. “I’ve never
made so much cornbread in my entire life. And you made a whole
rabbit stew. That’s cooking, isn’t it?”

“Sort of, I guess.”

“Charlie shot the rabbits,” Karen continued,
slapping a pair down and shooting a triumphant grin around the
table. “Bang! Right there in the wilds of the desert. And Amy
cooked a very tasty stew with them.”

Amy decided silence was called for here, so
she didn’t say a word.

“I’m sorry Benjamin can’t join us in
Chicago,” Martin said, as if talking about Charlie with Amy had
reminded him of the close relationship between Karen and
Benjamin.

“He’d doing another picture, so he couldn’t
come along.”

Karen sighed dreamily, and Amy’s heart
snagged before she steeled herself, as she’d been doing for
approximately two months now. She wasn’t going to invite defeat
this time. If she was to be beaten at this game, she would go down
fighting. Karen had taught her that much, at least, and Amy wasn’t
going to let her coach down.

* * *

“If Charlie doesn’t fall all over himself and
propose to you tonight, there’s no hope for him.” Karen gazed at
Amy with what looked to Amy remarkably like the pride of
invention.

Amy couldn’t fault Karen for any feeling she
might possess of having created something out of nothing. Not that
Amy was ugly to begin with, but she certainly did look dazzling
tonight—more dazzling than she’d ever looked before, even when
they’d stayed at the Royal El Montean.

Amy told herself not to think about the Royal
El Montean. But she appreciated Karen’s talent and energy very much
as she stood in her evening gown, fashioned and sewn for
her
this time instead of Wilma Patecky, by Karen’s own hands. The
entire ensemble couldn’t have been more perfect.