The Bride's Prerogative (59 page)

They left, and Hiram wandered into the parlor and lit the lamp. On the mantel sat his reloading tools and bullet molds. He walked over and took one down. If he got busy, he’d have an excuse to see Libby again tomorrow.

The silent house comforted him after all the bustle and conversation. Days of hard work and long, quiet evenings had marked his life since … as long as he could recall. There had been a time, what seemed an eon ago, when he and Violet had looked forward to the noise and happy disturbance caused by a child. And Trudy had added some life to the house, but she had quickly adjusted to his melancholy mood and joined his detached existence without complaint.

What had happened this year to put unrest in his heart? To tell him it might not be harmful to venture out beyond the placid confines of his life?

He traced his new wistfulness back a year to the evening when Libby Adams had closed her store and come to shoot with Trudy. The old sheriff had been murdered, and Libby didn’t feel safe alone in her apartment over the store. Somehow, since that day, his life had turned topsy-turvy. And a great deal of the frightening change was due to the beautiful widow.

Had the time come to alter his life in more significant ways? Trudy would leave him soon; he was sure of that. But Libby … he couldn’t imagine her living in this weathered little house. His mind rebelled at the idea of himself living in her rooms over the emporium. Trudy had told him about Libby’s elegant furnishings and expensive dishes and china. He wouldn’t want her to give up the lifestyle that apparently suited her. But would he become a storekeeper? No, he could never stand behind a counter, waiting on people all day—he knew he couldn’t. Neither could he let a wife run her thriving business and support him while he did … what? Fixed a gun now and then and reloaded spent shell casings?

For the past six months he’d made more income from carpentry odd jobs than he had at his gun business. Augie Moore had talked to him Sunday about possibly tearing the bar out of the Spur & Saddle and using the cherry wood as paneling. Hiram would like that job. His hands itched to touch the smooth, wide boards. But would Libby consider tying herself to an impoverished gunsmith and occasional cabinetmaker? Maybe she wasn’t attracted to him at all, at least not in that way. Maybe she was just being friendly. She treated everyone in a pleasant, courteous manner.

But no, he was certain he’d seen something more in her expression tonight as they laughed together over the dishpan. Of all the places to further a romance. In the lamplight, he carefully measured out the black powder for the shells he was reloading, smiling and thinking all the while of Libby’s blue eyes and creamy complexion.

A firm knock on the back door startled him.

Hiram laid aside his tools and stood. The knocking resounded again through the house.

He didn’t pause to light a candle, but hurried through the dusky kitchen and opened the door.

“Hiram.”

“Mr. Fennel?” Cyrus mounted the top step, so Hiram stood aside and let him enter. Whiskey fumes drove him back a step toward the table. “Here, let me get a light.”

“Is it late?” As Hiram struck a match, Cyrus dipped into his vest pocket and hauled out a large gold watch on a chain.

“No, it’s quite early,” Hiram said. “I was working in the other room, so I didn’t light the lamp here in the kitchen.

“Eight fifteen.” Cyrus snapped the watch case shut.

“Uh … would you like some coffee?”

“No, I just came to tell you I’ve got a piece of land I’m willing to sell you.”

“Me?” Hiram cocked his head to one side and tried to fathom his guest’s intentions. Was Cyrus so drunk he didn’t know what he was saying? He didn’t sound that tipsy, but Hiram didn’t have a lot of experience in gauging a man’s relative sobriety. The way Cyrus was talking, and with a dark bruise shadowing his left eye and cheekbone, he might be halfway to insensible.

“You. I know you’ve always wanted a ranch of your own. You came here hoping to buy one, didn’t you?”

“Well yes, but … that was a long time ago, sir.”

Cyrus nodded as though he had it all figured out. “You wanted the ranch I’m living on.”

Hiram cleared his throat. “You want to sell your home ranch? I’m sure I couldn’t—”

“No no.” Cyrus’s mouth twisted in annoyance. He pulled off his hat and held it by the crown, waving it before him. “Not that one. I
live
there. It’s the one out where the Logans used to live. Andy Logan sold out to me when he pulled up stakes five years or so ago. Quarter section. There’s a well and a soddy.”

Hiram shook his head. “I’m not interested. Sorry.”

Cyrus blinked at him. His mouth drooped. “Oh. ‘S all right.”

For the first time, Hiram thought the man might be very drunk. “Uh … would you like me to drive you home, Mr. Fennel?”

“Why would I want that?” He drew himself up for a moment, tall and imposing. The fuzziness left his eyes, and they focused with anger. “Are you implying that I’m—”

“No sir, I’m not implying anything. It’s just that it’s getting late, and—”

“Late? You said it was early.” Cyrus fumbled in his pants pocket. Hiram almost told him he was dredging the wrong pond when he pulled out another watch, this one silver. “Ha! Twenty past eight.”

“Yes sir.”

Cyrus nodded emphatically and shoved the watch back into his pocket. He fixed his gaze on Hiram. “You sure you don’t want to buy some land? I’m short on cash. I’ll give you a good deal.”

Hiram shook his head. He didn’t want to make enemies with Cyrus, but he certainly didn’t have the wherewithal to buy a ranch, and if he did, the old Logan place wouldn’t be his choice. “Maybe you could make Bitsy and Augie an offer. Or someone else with money. The Walkers, maybe.”

Cyrus clapped his hat onto his head.

Hiram wondered if he ought to let him leave. And should he tell him that he’d find an empty house when he got home? Isabel had distinctly declined Ethan’s offer to take the news to Cyrus. But he was right here….

Hiram watched him walk to the door.

“Watch your step there.”

Cyrus fumbled with the latch.

“Here, let me help you.”

A moment later, Cyrus was gone. Hiram leaned against the doorjamb and gazed up at the three-quarter moon over the mountains. He hoped Ethan was making good use of that moon.

CHAPTER 29

E
than held Trudy’s hand as they walked slowly along the riverbank.

“The water’s low,” she said. “Before we know it, that stream will be down to a trickle.”

Ethan stopped and turned toward her. “Trudy …”

“Yes?”

“There’s something …”

“What, Ethan?”

He hesitated, his heart racing. Just for a second, he wasn’t sure he could do it. But the image of Hiram standing behind him with a pitchfork prodded him.
Quit that
, he told himself.
You know you want to do this
. He felt calmer then, because it was true. He did want to propose, and even more, he wanted to marry Trudy. That was all he needed to think about.

He held on to her hand and went down on one knee on the grass. “I love you so much.”

She inhaled raggedly, staring down at him. Her eyes were almost luminous in the moonlight.

Ethan sucked in a lungful of air and blurted, “Marry me, Trudy. Please? I’ll take good care of you.”

She didn’t say anything, but her face melted into sweetness so intense he feared she would cry.

“I didn’t mean to make you wait. I’ve been saving for some things for the house, and thinking it would be nice to take you to Boise for a wedding trip, and—”

“I don’t need any of that.” She laid her free hand gently on his shoulder.

He gulped. “I never felt this way about anyone else. Will you … will you be my wife?”

“Yes.”

As soon as he heard it, he sprang up and engulfed her in his arms. “Trudy, Trudy.”

She raised her face to him, and he made himself calm down and lean slowly toward her to kiss her.

Ethan walked her to the kitchen door at quarter to nine. Trudy hated to let him leave, but his sweet good-night kisses would carry her through the next few hours.

She peered into the house. The kitchen was dark, but the lamp glowed in the parlor. Turning in the doorway, she let her bonnet slip down her back and slid her hands onto Ethan’s shoulders. He stood on the step below her, bringing them close in height.

“Thanks so much,” he whispered, drawing her into his arms.

“Tonight was lovely.” She let him kiss her again, treasuring his sweet tenderness. It was new enough to set her a-tingle but familiar enough that she could nestle against his collar bone after and cling an extra moment with no fear he would think her too forward. He smelled of leather and soap and mountain wind.

He twirled a lock of her hair around one finger. “I love you, Trudy.”

She smiled in the darkness and traced his badge with her fingertips. “I know. I’m glad.” There was a lot more she wanted to say, but they had time. Years and years ahead. “I love you, too.”

He kissed her again then pulled away. “Guess I’d better go ‘round to the Nugget again. He touched the end of her nose. “I’ll come by tomorrow.”

“All right.” She eased backward into the kitchen and watched him take the path around the corner. With a sigh, she closed the door. It was settled. She would be his wife. Soon.

She hung up her shawl and wandered into the softly lit parlor. Hiram sat near the lamp fitting a row of bullets into a small pasteboard box.

“Howdy,” she said.

He glanced her way and nodded.

“Is Rose home yet?” Trudy asked.

“Yes. She came in ten minutes ago and went upstairs.”

“Did she say anything?”

He shrugged. “Just that she was surprised how well that little blond vixen could play the piano.”

“She called Goldie that?”

“Coulda called her worse, I guess.”

Trudy sat down on the window seat. “You might do yourself a favor and start looking for a likely woman to cook and keep house for you.”

“That right?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Ethan pop the question?”

“What question would that be?” She kept her voice even, but she couldn’t hold back her grin.

Hiram looked her way and stood. “Well now.” He crossed the room and stooped to kiss her cheek.

“What do you think?” she asked.

“I think Ethan is a fine man and you couldn’t do better. Congratulations.” He went back to the table and closed the box of cartridges.

“When Rose hears, she might take it into her head again that she should be the one to do for you now.”

Hiram shook his head. “That won’t wash with me.”

“I know. But if Ethan and I get married, the two of you can’t stay here together.”

Hiram scratched behind his ear. “Thought she was looking for other lodgings.”

“I don’t know. She goes out most days, and I have no idea where she goes.”

“You going to tell her tonight?”

“I think I’ll keep it to myself until morning. She’ll want to know when the wedding will be, and I don’t know yet. But soon.”

“All right. And don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine. You and Ethan need to be together.”

She stood and headed for the stairs. “You, Mr. Dooley, are a very observant man.”