Scattered Petals (9 page)

“That’s the problem. I can’t afford to wait. Eva needs a mother now.” Gunther scooped the rye flour into a sack and handed it to Zach. “It’s not right for a child to be raised by only one parent.”

Zach frowned as he counted out the coins for the miller. Thanks to him, it was possible that two children had no father and that two women were raising their children alone. He couldn’t dwell on that, for the past could not be changed. What mattered now was the future. It might not be much, but Zach had resolved he would do what he could to ensure that he caused no more pain. If that meant leaving Ladreville and a life he enjoyed so that Miss Morton could live in peace, so be it.

Forcing his lips into a smile, Zach mounted Charcoal and rode into town, intending to stop at the post office. With the wedding less than a month away, Sarah and Clay received parcels almost every day, some of them too large for Sarah to carry. That was why Zach checked the post office frequently. That and the fact that it gave him an excuse to wander through the town that had come to feel like home.

He was looping the reins around a post when Michel Ladre emerged from his house. Though the mayor took pride in the fact that he owned the largest and most elaborate house in town, centrally located between the town’s attorney and the post office and across the street from Ladreville’s two churches, today his jaunty, almost arrogant step was missing. Judging from Michel’s slumped shoulders, his day was not going any better than Gunther’s.

“Good morning, Mayor.” Zach knew that the man who’d founded the town responded well when addressed formally. Perhaps a reminder of his position would improve his mood. Michel hadn’t seemed this despondent the night Zach had brought his son home with proof of his crimes. Though Jean-Michel had screamed obscenities and vowed revenge, Michel had been oddly silent that night, almost as if he had expected the revelation of his son’s perfidy. Today was different. Today the mayor appeared to be carrying a heavy burden. His dark hair seemed to have sprouted more gray strands almost overnight, and his brown eyes were dull with pain.

“Name one thing that’s good about it.” Michel’s scowl told Zach it would take more than a friendly greeting to please him.

“The country’s elected a new president, and I got my rye ground.” Zach accompanied his words with a playful grin. He knew Michel had backed James Buchanan in his campaign against Californian John Frémont and former President Millard Fillmore and had expected him to be pleased with the results of the voting.

The mayor was not impressed. “You’re a lucky man if that makes you happy. I need more than that.” He glared at Zach, as if whatever was wrong was his fault. “Women! If you ask me, the world would be an easier place if God hadn’t made Eve.”

Though there were times when Zach might have agreed, telling Michel that would accomplish nothing. Instead he kept his tone light. “It sure would be lonelier.”

“Perhaps, but today I’d take loneliness over problems.” Michel thrust his hands into his pockets as he said, “I should never have agreed to build that school.”

Zach frowned at the apparent non sequitur as he tried to find a connection between women, Michel, and the school. “What’s the problem? Everyone thinks the school is good for the community.” Though the French and German immigrants agreed on very few things, it appeared that the school pleased both groups.

“The school needs a teacher.” Michel gave Zach a look that seemed to say only an idiot would not realize that. “Once Sarah marries, she can no longer teach.”

Zach was starting to understand the problem. The mayor had supported the idea of a school. In fact, he had claimed it as his own inspiration. If the school closed for lack of a teacher, he would lose face. “I thought Olga Kaltheimer wanted to replace Sarah.”

“So did I. But then Gunther got it into his head to marry her.” Michel looked both ways, as if ensuring that no one was close enough to overhear his next words. “What’s a man to do? I couldn’t let that happen, because then I’d be in the same pickle I am now, so I talked to Olga’s father.” Zach understood the mayor’s desire for secrecy. If Gunther learned this part of the story, fists might fly.

“Herr Kaltheimer said he’d take care of the problem,” Michel continued, “but what does he do? Does he simply forbid her to marry Gunther? No. He sends her away. I ask you, Zach, how does that solve my problem? At the end of this month, Ladreville will no longer have a teacher. What do I tell the townspeople? They expect me to find answers.”

There was one solution, but Zach suspected Michel wouldn’t like it. “You could let Sarah continue teaching.”

“Nonsense!” The mayor’s reaction was the one Zach had expected. “Everyone knows a married woman’s place is at home. Even my wife knows that,” he muttered. “Her problem is she thinks our home ought to be somewhere other than Ladreville.”

Zach whistled softly, suspecting that marital discord, not the school dilemma, was the root cause of Michel’s ill humor this morning. “This is your town. You founded it. You’re the mayor, the sheriff, and the arbiter of most disputes. I’m not saying this to flatter you, Michel, but you’re the one indispensable person in Ladreville.” Although Zach knew the man craved flattery the way Charcoal did sugar lumps, that was the simple truth.

Michel’s scowl faded for an instant, then reappeared. “Jeannette says it’s time for us to leave. She claims I spend too much time on the town’s business and not enough with her.”

Judging from everything he’d heard, Zach couldn’t contradict that opinion. There was, however, no point in further riling the mayor. “As a bachelor, I can’t claim to know anything about wives, but I might be able to help with the school.”

“Are you proposing to teach?”

Zach grinned. The idea was preposterous, and he suspected Michel knew it. “Afraid not. About all I know is horses and ranching. But I also know that Ladreville is a progressive town.” As Zach had hoped, Michel’s eyes lit with interest, and he straightened his shoulders. “We’ve got French and Germans living and working together. If that’s not progressive, I don’t know what is.” Michel nodded, a monarch accepting his tribute. “Why couldn’t the town’s mayor step outside tradition to make his home a better place? It would take a courageous man, but you’ve already proven you’re exactly that.” Judicious flattery, Zach told himself, had a place.

“What are you proposing?”

Zach raised his hat to greet two women as they emerged from the post office. He wouldn’t venture his proposal until they were out of earshot. When the women were safely inside the mercantile, he turned back to Michel. “I think you should let Sarah continue to teach until summer. That way the children won’t suffer, and you would have time to advertise for a new schoolmarm.” He gave Michel an appraising look. “I know it’s unconventional, but it would be a bold step, one that the rest of Texas would notice.”

Perhaps it was only Zach’s imagination that the mayor appeared to preen as he considered the suggestion. “It might work,” he admitted.

Zach steeled his face to remain impassive, though inwardly he was exulting over the success of his ploy. “I’m confident the townspeople would agree if you presented the idea.”

Michel nodded. “You’re right. I will do that.” The mayor started to return to his home, then turned, as if a thought had suddenly occurred to him. “Oh, Zach, it would be best if no one knew we had this conversation.”

“Of course.” Zach was smiling as he entered the post office. Flattery had done the trick.

5

“Are you certain you don’t mind being saddled with a sick child?”

Priscilla smiled as she attempted to reassure the usually calm woman whose face was now lined with strain. It was a measure of Sarah’s distress that she’d entered Priscilla’s room while she was dressing. Though she visited occasionally, it was never in the morning. “I don’t mind at all.” Priscilla smiled again as she fastened the last button on her bodice. Once she’d brushed her hair, she’d be ready. “You needn’t worry about Thea. I had plenty of experience helping care for my father’s patients.”

Sarah’s obvious surprise that she knew how to treat sick children caused Priscilla to continue her explanation. “It’s true that his wealthy patients might not have appreciated having a child accompany their doctor, but Papa spent one day a week seeing people on the other side of town, the ones who couldn’t afford to pay for a doctor. He often took me with him.” Priscilla’s smile broadened at the memories. “I’m not sure which I enjoyed more—being with Papa or helping the patients feel better. But, thanks to him, I know how to deal with the grippe. I’ll be glad to watch over Thea today.”

The furrows between Sarah’s eyes disappeared. “Thank you. Normally, I’d stay home with her, but I hate to close school, even for a day. The children are so anxious to learn that I feel almost guilty about marrying Clay, knowing the school will close.”

Priscilla coiled her hair into a chignon, securing it with the long pins Sarah had purchased at the mercantile, then turned toward her friend. “Aren’t you the one who urged me to trust God? Trust him on this. Anyone can see that he meant you to marry Clay, and I’m sure he meant Ladreville to have a school. He’ll show us the way.” When Sarah nodded slowly, Priscilla headed toward the door. “Let’s tell Thea I’ll be caring for her today.”

Though the child was paler than normal, she grinned when Sarah explained the plan. “Cilla, me want drink,” she announced.

“And you’ll have one.” Priscilla held the cup to her mouth, watching while Thea took several swallows of cool water. “If you’re feeling better later, I’ll make one of my mother’s favorite beverages for you. Right now, though, you and Dolly should sleep.”

As Thea settled back on her pillow, the rag doll cradled in one arm, Sarah turned to Priscilla. “What are you going to make for her to drink? Chamomile tea?”

Priscilla shook her head. “That was Mama’s sleep potion. I’m going to give Thea mint. When you told me about her grippe, I remembered that Mama claimed mint tea would soothe an upset stomach. I’m sure it’s not coincidence that I saw some growing wild at the edge of the kitchen garden when I was walking yesterday.”

Each day, Priscilla managed to venture a bit farther from the house. Though she still looked over her shoulder, ensuring that no one was following her, the fact that it had been two weeks and no strangers had approached the ranch gave her the confidence to explore new areas, that and the knowledge that Zach or one of the ranch hands was close by. Though they had not spoken since the night they’d met by the corral, Priscilla had seen Zach almost every day. He kept his distance, but she knew he was there, ensuring her safety. It was a good feeling.

The day passed more slowly than Priscilla had expected, for she was unwilling to leave Thea’s bedside, and there was little to do there other than watch and wait. Despite the cool compresses she applied and the frequent sips of water she encouraged Thea to take, the little girl’s fever rose, and she failed to keep even liquids in her stomach. This was, Priscilla knew, the normal progression of the grippe. She was doing everything she could to soothe Thea, but the illness needed to run its course. Only then, when the poisons were out of Thea’s body, would the fever break and she be able to sleep normally.

It was mid-afternoon before the change came and Thea slept. Knowing there was nothing more she could do and that her presence now might disturb the child’s sleep, Priscilla left the house and headed toward the paddock. The sky was a faultless blue, the air a refreshing change from Thea’s sickroom. Priscilla took a deep breath, savoring both the beauty of the Bar C and the knowledge that Thea was mending.

“You’re such beautiful horses,” she murmured when she reached the railing. Clay must have taken the buggy into town today, for his stallion was grazing along with the sorrel mare that spent most afternoons in the paddock.

“That they are.”

Priscilla wheeled around, startled by the man’s voice. “I didn’t hear you coming,” she told Zach. Her heart began to pound with alarm, and her palms grew moist. It was foolish to react this way. Zach would not hurt her. But her heart returned to normal only when he stopped, leaving a wide space between them.

As he smiled, another thought assailed Priscilla. He already knew she was skittish. What must he think of a woman who talked to herself? “I didn’t realize I was speaking aloud. I spent the morning talking to Thea so she’d know she wasn’t alone. I guess I forgot where I was.”

Though it could have been otherwise, Zach’s smile was warm and friendly, not mocking. “How is the little one?”

“Better. She’s sleeping now, so I slipped out for a bit of fresh air.” This was silly. Priscilla shook herself mentally. She didn’t need to explain anything to Zach Webster. Only Sarah and Clay needed to know how she’d cared for Thea. But here she was, acting as if it was important that Zach understood and approved her actions. Silly!

“If you really want fresh air, in my opinion there’s no better way to get it than to ride.” Zach gestured toward the sorrel mare that was approaching them, apparently curious about the humans. “You could ride her. Nora’s a gentle mount.”

Priscilla could see that, although Nora was an older horse, she was not yet ready to be turned out to pasture. “I’ve always loved to ride,” she admitted. Riding had been one of her pleasures in Boston, but—with the exception of the time she had spent on the Ranger’s horse, which had been anything but pleasurable—she had not been on a horse since she’d left home.

“Then you should. I know Clay would be grateful to have you give Nora some exercise. She was his mother’s favorite horse.”

Nora’s ears pricked up, and she thrust her nose toward Priscilla, as if encouraging her. Sorely tempted, Priscilla stroked the horse’s muzzle. The day was perfect for a ride, and Nora would be an ideal mount. Priscilla knew that from the way the mare responded to her touch. “Perhaps tomorrow.” She had come out for a breath of air, not a prolonged excursion.

Zach quirked one eyebrow. “Why not now? Thea’s asleep, and Martina’s inside with her. She’ll come for you if you’re needed.” He propped one boot on the lowest fence rail, the picture of a man at ease. If only she could be so relaxed. Though he stood at least a yard away, Priscilla was deeply aware of Zach’s scent and the power of those long arms and legs.

As Clay’s stallion came to investigate the humans’ activity, Zach rubbed the horse’s muzzle. Though he kept his gaze on the horse, he addressed Priscilla. “There’s a sidesaddle in the barn. I could have her ready for you in a couple minutes.” He turned and gave her an encouraging smile. “C’mon, Priscilla. You’d be doing both Nora and Clay a favor if you took a few laps around the paddock.”

“I don’t know.” Even to her ears, the argument sounded weak.

Zach must have taken her mild protest for agreement, for he nodded. “I’ll fetch the saddle. Why don’t you and Nora keep getting acquainted?”

Priscilla entered the paddock and approached the mare. “You’re a pretty horse, aren’t you?” She let Nora sniff her hand, then reached up to stroke her mane. As she did, Priscilla frowned, and her legs threatened to buckle. Though Nora was smaller than the Ranger’s stallion, she was still too tall to mount without assistance. That meant . . . Priscilla shuddered as her brain completed the sentence. Riding was a bad idea, a very bad idea.

“Here we are.” Zach slung the saddle over the fence, then whistled for Nora.

Priscilla held up a hand to stop him. There was no point in saddling the mare when she wouldn’t be ridden. “I’m sorry, Zach, but I can’t do this.” To her relief, though her limbs continued to quake, her voice sounded normal. Zach was far enough away that he wouldn’t witness her fear, since her words had not betrayed her.

Surprise filled those dark blue eyes that reminded Priscilla of the Texas sky. “Why not?”

“It’s just . . . er . . .” Oh, it was embarrassing, having to admit her fears. He must know how frightened she was of a man’s touch, for he kept his distance. Surely there was no need to put words to her craven thoughts. But Zach, it appeared, did not understand. Priscilla swallowed, mustering her courage. “How would I mount?” she asked.

“I’ll lift you.” As an involuntary shudder rippled through her, Zach’s eyes darkened with understanding. “I see.” There was no pity, no condemnation in those two words, only an acknowledgement of a problem. “We’ll find another way. You wouldn’t want to disappoint Nora, would you?” Nora, who’d been sniffing the saddle, looked at Priscilla, as if she understood her dilemma. “There’s a bale of hay inside the barn,” Zach continued. “You could climb on that and then into the saddle.” Unspoken was the promise that he’d be a safe distance away.

“All right.” It was as simple as Zach had made it sound. Within minutes, Priscilla was on Nora’s back, watching the mare toss her head, clearly eager to run. “Sorry, girl. I know you want to gallop, but not today.” They both needed time to become accustomed to each other. But a few minutes on Nora’s back convinced Priscilla they could trot, and so she let the horse increase its pace. It felt so good, so very good, to be riding again, and for a moment nothing mattered but the sensation of being one with this beautiful creature, enjoying the sun, the wind, and the clean air.

“The paddock’s a bit confining,” Zach said when Priscilla had dismounted, once again relying on the hay bale. “If you’d like, I can show you around the ranch tomorrow.”

There was no doubt about it; the opportunity tempted her. When she’d been on Nora’s back, Priscilla had been free of fears, released from the prison of terrifying memories. For the length of a ride, she had lived in the present, and it had been a present filled with pleasure, not foreboding. How could she not want to repeat that? When she’d started walking around the ranch, Clay had urged Priscilla to ride, arguing that riding would be an extension of her walks, a way to explore more of the place that was her home, at least temporarily. Each time he’d suggested it, she had refused. Though he had told her that women rode alone here, Priscilla wasn’t comfortable with the idea. Zach had solved that problem. With him at her side, she’d be safe. The question was whether she could impose on him. “I don’t want to take you away from your responsibilities.”

“Who said anything about shirking responsibilities? You can help me check the fences. I need to do that occasionally.”

Her last concern assuaged, Priscilla smiled. “I’d like that.” When Zach looked at the sky, as if assessing the sun’s position, Priscilla glanced at her watch and blinked at the realization that she’d been outside for more than an hour. The time had been so pleasant that she hadn’t been aware of its passage. “I’d better check on Thea.”

The little girl was awake and restless, both good signs. “Tell me a story,” she demanded when Priscilla had coaxed her to drink a few sips of mint tea.

“What kind of story would you like?”

“The one with the coach.”

The coach. Priscilla’s smile faded and her limbs began to tremble as images of the bandits attacking her stagecoach filled her mind. How did Thea know about that, and why— oh, why—did she want to hear that story?

“No, sweetie.” That was one story she would not recount, not to anyone, especially not to an innocent child.

“Please, Cilla.” Thea’s voice was filled with entreaty. “Pumpkin coach.”

Pumpkin. Of course. Relief washed over Priscilla at the realization that Thea wanted to hear the tale of Cinderella. It was only Priscilla’s traitorous mind that had turned a simple request into a terrifying memory.

“Once upon a time . . .”

It was easier than he’d expected. Jean-Michel slipped the key into the lock and turned it. Perfect! The gal who cleaned Monroe’s office was even dumber than the great man himself. A few kisses, some sweet words and she’d told Jean-Michel everything he needed to know. Thanks to her, he hadn’t had to break down the door, possibly alerting the guards Monroe stationed near his office. Thanks to her, he knew about the safe and the strange set of numbers she’d found glued to the bottom of a paperweight, numbers Jean-Michel was betting were the combination. Thanks to her, Jean-Michel Ladre would soon be a wealthy man . . . and a free one.

He closed the door behind him, grateful that the bars Monroe had installed on the windows did not block the moonlight. It might not be easy, opening the safe in near darkness, but Jean-Michel couldn’t take the chance of carrying a lantern. That would be dumb, and he was not dumb. No, sirree. He’d always known he was the smartest man in Ladreville. As the safe swung open, revealing pouches filled with coins, Jean-Michel chuckled. He wasn’t just the smartest man in Ladreville; he was the smartest man in the whole state of Texas.