Here Comes the Bride (12 page)

“About you!”

“What about me? You’re not making any sense.”

“You really don’t understand any of this, do you?” Bart shook his head in wonder. “Tess, Gabe’s in love with you.”

Surely Bart had lost his mind. Gabe might feel something for Tess, but love? She seriously doubted that.

“I’m sorry, Bart,” she said. “I don’t think you—”

“Don’t get me wrong,” he interrupted, raising both hands. “He might never admit it, hell, he might not even know it, but it’s there. And it scares the crap out of ’im.”

“Honestly, Bart, Gabriel is an intelligent man. I think he would know if he loved me or not.”

Bart shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not. Truth is, Tess, Gabe’s had his fair share of women trouble. There was one in particular who messed him up pretty good. Took him a while to straighten out after that.”

“Well, there you go,” Tess said. “He’s been in love before, so he should know how it feels.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Bart said. “He ain’t never been in love before. Oh, sure, he mighta loved the girl, but he sure as hell weren’t in love with her.”

Tess considered this for a minute. Gabe had been hurt before. Was that why he was afraid to get close again? But she would never hurt him—she’d rather die first.

“What did this woman do to him?”

“Who—Catarina?” Bart asked.

Tess nodded. Catarina. Just her name made Tess angry—she sounded like a spoiled brat who needed to be taken over her father’s knee. But wasn’t that exactly what Gabe had said about Tess herself?

“She worked her way into Gabe’s life, had him believin’ she loved him, and then she left.”

“Why?”

“Didn’t wanna be married to a ‘dumb rancher’ who spent his days and nights thinkin’ ’bout cattle. She wanted the high life—the dancin’, the fancy restaurants, that sorta thing—an’ sure as shootin’ she weren’t gonna find it here in Porter Creek, that’s for danged sure.”

“Poor Gabriel,” Tess murmured. “Why was she here if she didn’t want to be?”

Bart snickered. “Her pa owns the mercantile. Figured she’d marry Gabe—mostly for his money a’-course—an’ then convince him to move to Helena or Butte or somewhere a little more lively. Soon as she realized ol’ Gabe weren’t about to be movin’ anywhere, least of all a big city, she hightailed it away from him and cried until her mama and daddy sent her to live with her aunt in Billings.”

“That’s horrible,” she sighed.

Bart nodded. “So, between Catarina and Mama, and the rest of the women who’ve wandered in and out of his life, he ain’t exactly had the best luck.”

“But what do any of them have to do with me? Catarina sounds like a perfectly horrible woman and your poor mother couldn’t help that she died, for goodness’ sake. As for ‘the rest of the women,’ I can’t even imagine how he could compare me to any of them. I would never hurt Gabriel, Bart. You have to believe that.”

“Oh, hell, Tess, I know that. But you gotta understand Gabe. When Mama and the baby died, they took a big chunk a’ him with them.”

“I’m sure you all felt that way.” A familiar ache pinched Tess’s heart. “When a child loses his parent, especially his mother, it’s something that follows him for the rest of his life.”

“Rosa tried, God bless ’er, to be a mother to both of us, but Gabe was so sore with Mama and the old man, he took to workin’ this damned ranch with Miguel and never stopped long enough to let Rosa love him.

“He hated bein’ fussed over, hated anything that showed the least bit of weakness. He was only seven, for cryin’ out loud, but he blamed Mama’s dyin’ on her—for bein’ so weak—and on the old man for not seein’ it. He’s always said weak women got no business out west. Far as he’s concerned, they should all be put up in a fancy cushioned room somewhere and forgotten.”

“But I’m not weak!” Tess cried. “I’m as strong as anyone, and if he’d give me the chance, I could show him. But, no, I get a couple little blisters and he acts like the sky is falling in, for goodness’ sake.”

“You got blisters?”

Tess turned her hands palms up and showed him the wounds.

“What the hell happened to you?”

“I was collecting eggs and cleaning out the chicken coop. Your brother and Rosa went on like I’d lost a limb or something equally as foolish.”

“Why the hell were you in with the chickens? Nobody goes in there ’cept him.”

“Yes,” she answered wryly. “I know that now. He was trying to prove a point and all that happened was he became terribly angry with me.”

Bart nodded slowly. “That’s where you’re wrong, Tess. Gabe ain’t mad at you ’bout that—he’s mad at himself. He prob’ly figured you’d turn tail and run at the first sign of pain instead of workin’ with blisters and scratches like that.”

“Well, it was me he was yelling at, not himself.”

“Yup. That’s how he is.”

“So you’re telling me, when I offered to help him with some work just now and he got angry again, he wasn’t angry at me, but with himself?”

“Right.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why is he angry?”

Bart removed his hat and whapped it against his knee, sending a thin cloud of brown dust billowing around both of them.

“That’s easy,” he replied. “You’d just finished your bath, right?”

Tess nodded.

“Were you standin’ there wrapped in a towel or even—”

“I most certainly was not!” she cried indignantly. “I was . . . am . . . completely dressed! I have his shirt and Rosa’s wrapper . . .”

“You’re wearing his shirt?”

“Yes.”

“Well, it’s no bloody wonder he’s all fired up.”

Tess was more confused and frustrated now than before Bart arrived. He seemed to be talking circles around her, and she was getting dizzy from it all.

“Bart,” she began impatiently. “I haven’t got the slightest clue what you are talking about, but I have to say you are managing to give me a pounding headache.”

Bart laughed. “It’s prob’ly not near the headache my brother has right now.”

“Why?” she seethed. “What have I done?”

“Nothin’,” he continued, laughing. “That’s just it. Bein’ you is drivin’ ol’ Gabe loco. You’re here, he’s here, you’re both adults, there’s obviously something between you if he up an’ kissed you on the way to church, for God’s sake, and you . . . well . . . how do I put this?”

Tess waited less than a second before her temper got the better of her.

“For goodness’ sake, Bart, just say it!”

“Well, okay,” he shrugged. “The thing is, Tess, you’re a fine lookin’ woman and there ain’t nothin’ more attractive to a man like Gabe than a woman who don’t know she’s good lookin’.”

“Bart Calloway, you are trying to make me crazy! Now be serious, for goodness’ sake.” She shook her comb threateningly in his face. “Don’t try to patronize me—I know full well I am not beautiful. I’m short, I’ve got this horrible colored hair, my skin is too pale, my—”

“That’s exactly what I’m talkin’ about, Tess,” he argued. “I got no reason to lie to you, so you might as well believe what I say. You’re sure as shootin’ a good lookin’ woman—not my type, but that’s a whole different story. Gabe obviously thinks you’re somethin’ to look at, too, an’ seein’ you in his shirt is . . . well, let’s just say right now, his thoughts alone are enough to send him straight to the hot house.”

“Oh, honestly, Bart, I hardly think that’s why he got in a huff, because I’m wearing his shirt. Besides, it’s not as if I was showing anything—I was completely covered.”

Bart shrugged. “Imagination’s a wonderful thing.”

Tess flushed furiously. “You’re making this up!”

“I wouldn’t lie to you, Tess,” he said through a grin. “Gabe’s prob’ly sittin’ in there right now fightin’ back every urge he has about you and gettin’ absolutely no work done at all.”

Tess shook her head. “You’re wrong, Bart. Everything I do makes him angry, and if I don’t get some help from you or someone else, he’s going to have me on that darned stage on Friday if it kills him.”

“I ain’t wrong, Tess, and you’re right about one thing—he sure as hell ain’t gonna let you stay here. He’s too scared you’ll get sick and die on him or you’ll plain get sick of bein’ here and hotfoot it outta here faster than a long-tailed cat in a room full o’ rockin’ chairs. He ain’t gonna let himself get hurt like that again, even if lettin’ you go kills him instead.”

“It’s not fair,” she sighed. “It’s just not fair.”

“No, ma’am, it ain’t. But that’s what you get for fallin’ in love with stupid Gabe Calloway.”

“Bart,” she began, but his twinkling eyes stopped her.

“I’m kiddin’, Tess. Just kiddin’. He ain’t that stupid, I reckon. After all, he’s got good taste in women, don’t he?”

Tess flushed at the compliment but did not respond. She picked up the comb from her lap and resumed the fight with the tangles. They rocked in companionable silence for a while, the only sound being the steady creaking of the porch floorboards.

“So what d’you think of the place anyway?” Bart asked.

Tess shrugged. “I’ve not actually seen anything yet, except the chicken coop. I haven’t even been invited past the barn door yet. But I guess if what you say is true and Gabriel really will make me leave, then it’s probably best if I don’t—”

“The hell with that!” Bart boomed. “You came halfway ’round the country to see the ranchin’ way of life, and I’ll be damned if I’m gonna let you go home still wonderin’ what it’s all about.”

“But what about . . .”

“The hell with everythin’ else! Startin’ tomorrow, Tess Kinley, you are gonna learn what ranchin’ life is really like—hell, I might even teach you how to castrate bulls!”

“Bart!” she gasped, but she was laughing too hard to be ashamed.

“It’s settled then,” he chortled. “You be ready first thing, little missy, and we’ll ride out to check the herd after breakfast. How’s that sound?”

“Really?” she almost squealed with delight. “I’d love it! Can I milk one of the cows? Can I learn how to shoe a horse?” She bounced up and down in her chair, her hands clapping together. “Ooh, ooh, can I learn how to play poker?”

Bart’s laughter echoed through the still air.

“I don’t think . . .”

“Oh, please, Bart, not for money or anything, but will you teach me? Please?”

“Well now, little missy, if you’re gonna play cards with Bart Calloway, you play for money or you don’t play. I’ll spot you enough to get you through a couple a’ hands; but if you can’t manage to win some back, then you’re out, got it?”

“That’s wonderful!” she giggled. “I can’t wait. Do you think Gabriel will want to play, too?” Her excitement waned. “On second thought, maybe we shouldn’t even ask him. The less I see of him, the easier it will be to leave on Friday, right?”

Bart sobered. “I ain’t makin’ no bets on that, Tess.”

“No,” she sighed. “Me neither.”

He reached out and patted her hand lightly. “You still got a few days, Tess. Try and enjoy ’em while you’re here.”

Though her eyes burned with tears, she refused to let them fall. Instead, she lifted her head high and smiled as brightly as she could.

“I’ll be ready and waiting tomorrow morning,” she said. “Is there anything I should bring with me?”

“Nope. I’ll make sure the horses are saddled and ready to go; you just make sure you’re ready for a full day of work.”

“Oh, I will be,” she promised. “Thank you, Bart.”

“My pleasure, ma’am. Now you best go get some shut-eye if you expect to keep up tomorrow. I’ll walk you in so Gabe don’t bite your head off again.”

She smiled her thanks this time and followed him in through the kitchen. Gabe was seated at his desk, his long legs stretched out, his right ankle crossed over his left. A deep frown creased his brow and was made even more pronounced by his blind stare and his arms crossed tightly over his chest.

“Good night,” Tess said quietly as she tiptoed up the stairs. Bart nodded back, but Gabe remained stoic.

“Any coffee left?” Bart asked, eyeing Gabe’s mug. “Hell, you ain’t even touched yours. That bad?”

Gabe finally blinked. “Forgot about it, I guess.”

“You
forgot about coffee?” Bart echoed. “Must got a lot on your mind. Wanna tell me about it?”

“There’s nothing to tell.” He pulled himself upright and leaned over the open ledger in front of him. “Did you two have a nice talk out there?”

Bart pulled in a chair from the kitchen and straddled it.

“She told me you kissed her.”

“Damn it!” Gabe hissed, slamming his pen down on the desk. “It was a mistake, Bart, that’s all.”

“No shit,” he agreed. “But for some reason she seems to think it wasn’t.”

“Yeah, well, she also thinks she’s in love with me, so there you go.”

“She is,” Bart stated matter-of-factly.

“No, she’s not. She might think she is, but the truth is she’s been reading too many of those dime store novels and now her head’s all full of crazy ideas.”

“Nope,” Bart said, shaking his head. “You’re wrong. I can’t for the life of me figure out why, but she’s really and truly in love with you. Poor girl. Maybe we ought to have Doc Bender come and have a look at her—all that jostlin’ on the stage must have rattled her brain or somethin’.”

Gabe rolled his eyes. “This isn’t funny, Bart.”

“You’re right, it ain’t funny at all. That little girl’s got her whole heart wrapped up in thoughts of you, and what do you do? You kiss her, for God’s sake, and then tell her she can’t stay. You got her so confused she don’t know what to think.”

“She should be thinkin’ about her trip home,” Gabe snapped.

“She is.”

Every last bit of color drained from Gabe’s face.

“She knows you’re gonna send her away, even if you do love her. She knows with every single passin’ minute her dream dies a little bit more, and come Friday she’s gonna have to say good-bye to everythin’ she ever wanted.”

“That’s not my fault!” Gabe growled. “I didn’t ask her to come here—she just arrived. I didn’t ask her to get all droopy eyed and declare her love for me. She did that all on her own.”