Authors: Jane Corrie
Teresa looked at him, trying to gauge his mood. He had not been joking, she saw, for there was a tenseness about him that made her hold back any remark calculated to infuriate him. He was, it appeared, still smarting about what she had said when she left him the previous evening. Her eyes surreptitiously studied him. He had dressed that morning in a pale blue silk shirt and tan slacks, and was freshly shaven, for she caught the scent of his aftershave. His eyes met hers, and she looked away quickly and picked up her tea, murmuring, 'Thank you.'
Carl watched her for a moment or so and it appeared to Teresa that he had been half-hoping for a showdown then and there, and was a little put out because she refused to oblige him.
'Is it still raining?' she asked conversationally.
He nodded abruptly, then as if his humour had been restored, grinned at her. 'It's not let up all night,' he told her, almost triumphantly she thought.
Teresa did not answer, but went on sipping her
tea. When she had finished he collected the empty cup and saucer, and to her relief walked to the door. 'Bathroom's free when you're ready,' he remarked airily, 'and breakfast in half an hour. So don't go back to sleep again, will you?'
Her eyes lingered on the closed door for a few minutes after he had gone. He had said that much as a married man might have done, she thought scathingly, as if it were all over bar the shouting. But it wasn't! It was only the beginning, as Carl was so fond of telling her, only not the beginning he had in mind! He didn't know it, but he had just lit a bonfire on the feud he'd hoped to bury!
On these rallying thoughts she leapt out of bed, and when she had showered and dressed she opened the window shutters and stood gazing out. There was a half-formulated plan in her mind to get away from the cabin before the arrival of her uncle. If only she could get back to the chalet under her own steam all Carl's well-laid schemes would come to nothing, for she could deny she had ever been here, and her uncle would back her up in this if she told him to. It all depended, Teresa thought, on the state of the van and whether it was still serviceable.
One look, however, sent her new-found spirits plunging to zero. It might have been better had her room not given such a clear view of the situation, for she could plainly see the van, now firmly embedded in thick swirling mud, and what had been a small stream had now swollen to a fast-moving river. Of the small wooden bridge she had crossed over there was no sign at all, and was presumably under a foot or so of water, probably more. Carl had chosen his time and territory well, she thought
bitterly—that was plan number one, well and truly abandoned!
'Admiring the landscape?' commented Carl, in the sort of voice that suggested he had a fair idea of what had been in her mind, and he confirmed it by joining her at the window and staring out at the van. 'Looks a write-off to me,' he said smoothly. 'I'll compensate Rafferty for it, of course.'
'Of course,' echoed Teresa with a glint in her eye.
Breakfast, surprisingly enough, was a pleasant meal. Carl correctly assessed Teresa's mood and set out to charm her into a sweeter disposition, and she responded favourably. She had by now convinced herself that all would be well and Carl's master plan just wasn't going to work, and she even felt a little sorry that she couldn't be more co-operative in this matter, but knew she could rely on her uncle to keep the flag flying.
When Carl produced what he called a 'games chest' a little later on, she brightened still further, for there had still been a lingering worry at the back of her mind as to how they were going to fill the day, and she eagerly agreed to settle down to a game of cards.
The day passed pleasantly without any mention of the previous day's happenings, and Teresa began to be lulled into a sense of quiet content. She would forget the troubles that beset them and enjoy what little time she would have in Carl's company. However, she found this was easier said than done, for there were times when she would find his eyes on her, and the look in them made her hastily revise her earlier ruminations, and she had to think of something to say to ease the situation. She asked
him about the station he had bought up north.
Soon he was telling her of the size of the ranch and how he would lick it into shape, and Teresa felt a traitor as she listened, saying nothing that could be held against her later. After a while she noticed that Sunset Ridge was continually held up as an example of what he hoped to make Targee, as the station was called, into. 'I couldn't hope to produce another Sunset Ridge,' Carl commented ruefully, 'but it will be a fine place when I've finished with it.'
Teresa was sure it would be and felt a little sorry that she wouldn't be seeing it, and rather wished she hadn't brought the subject up.
The rain stopped just after lunch the following day, and it took a little while for Teresa to realise it. They were playing a kind of rummy to ascertain who would do the washing up, and she was too immersed in the game to notice how quiet everything had gone. Carl, even though he must have known the deluge had stopped, did not enlighten her.
Gradually the peace outside seeped through Teresa's consciousness and she frowned as if trying to pinpoint its sources, and Carl, with a movement that showed his reluctance, got up and opened the window shutters.
`It's over,' she said in a hushed voice, unknowingly letting the relief creep into her voice.
`I'd say it was the start,' replied Carl, giving her an interrogating look as if he sensed her feelings. 'I'll give Rafferty four hours,' he said dryly, and this time the amusement was back in his voice.
Teresa glanced at her watch; that would make it
six o'clock before they could leave the cabin! It would seem more like eight hours! To be so near the end of her ordeal, and yet so far from accomplishing her goal, was a point she hadn't taken into consideration. She had somehow thought that once the rain eased up Uncle Patrick would have been right on the spot, although she couldn't imagine what he would do for transport. He would probably ask Michael or his father to bring him out there. Preferably Mr Oates, she thought worriedly, as Michael's appearance would most certainly bring out the worst in Carl ... And how was Carl going to get back? He had no transport there. She spoke her thoughts. 'How will you get back?' she asked.
Carl grinned at her. 'Jan, my foreman, will be on the spot as soon as possible,' he answered, added meditatively, 'Very likely he'll bring your uncle along with him.'
This did not suit Teresa one little bit, for she had hoped to keep the two sides apart until she had had a little talk with her uncle. The best she could hope for now was to be the first to get to him when they did eventually arrive.
'Shall we resume the game?' asked Carl dryly. 'Although I'm afraid you're going to be washing the dishes again! ' he added.
Teresa gave him an indignant look. 'I haven't lost yet,' she retorted quickly.
'Haven't you?' he answered in a soft voice that showed her he was not referring to the game.
She decided to ignore this taunt, and picked up her cards with a determined air.
Although she tried not to show it, she couldn't
help taking quick peeps at her watch as the hours ticked slowly away, and Carl, missing nothing as usual, observed casually, 'It might take a little longer.' His eyes met her startled ones. 'For them to get here, I mean. It rather depends on how soon that stream outside resumes its normal proportions.'
Teresa didn't quite get the connection at first, and her eyes said so. 'The bridge,' he explained patiently. 'It's submerged, in case you hadn't noticed.'
Just another little point she hadn't taken into consideration, she thought miserably, as she nodded her understanding of this and tried to keep her depression out of her eyes.
The four hours passed, and another half an hour, before the welcoming sound of a motor engine sounded in the distance. Teresa staring out at the direction from where she could hear the vehicle approaching, found her hands clenching into small fists. Although she thought she had relaxed during the card sessions with Carl, she must have been keying herself up to this point in time and was now extremely tense. She had to get to her uncle first, and woe betide Carl if he tried to stop her
With a sense of disappointment she watched the car come into view, for it was obviously not Jack Oates' or Michael's, but one she had not seen before. The sleek vehicle that was slowly but surely making its way along the thick, muddied track could only belong to Carl, and ignoring Carl's cool, 'What's the hurry? They'll have to stay put for a while yet,' she made her way to the front door and stood waiting until the car drew to a sliding halt next to the stream opposite them.
The first one out of the car was not unnaturally her uncle Patrick, who shouted across in a warring voice, 'Where is he? Come on out, Elton!' and seeming to notice Teresa standing there for the first time, shouted, 'Now don't worry, girl, I'll see he does right by you.'
Teresa stared at him in disbelief—if he meant what she thought he meant, he wasn't proving at all co-operative. 'Stop shouting, Uncle Patrick,' she said furiously. 'Do you want the whole town to hear you? We're talking this over in a civilised manner or not at all.'
Carl chose that moment to join her, and to her fury he slid an arm around her waist in an exceedingly possessive manner calculated to infuriate the already fuming man on the other side of the stream.
'Yell marry her, do you hear, Elton? Jist try and wriggle out, that's all. I'll have you up afore the beak, that I will ! ' shouted Patrick, and emphasised his feelings by shaking his fist in the air and jumping up and down in his righteous rage.
Teresa could have murdered him. A fine
help he was turning out to be !
He was making the whole situation turn into something of a farce, and a very bad one at that, considering the role he had elected her to play, well, she wasn't in the mood for playacting( 'Stop it, do you hear ! ' she shouted at him, and glared at Carl, who just stood there thoroughly enjoying the play, as bad as it was!
Her look sent him reluctantly into action, and still keeping a firm hold on Teresa's waist, he drawled, 'You have my word on it. Now be a good fellow and wait until we can work out the details.'
His words had an instant calming effect on her
uncle, and muttering something under his breath Patrick got back into the car, and Carl's foreman got out. Almost as if he had been primed to stay out of the way until her uncle had had his say, thought Teresa furiously, and her fury mounted as the man called across to Carl. `I'd say in about another hour, boss,' he said, looking at the bridge that was just showing signs of emerging from the stream.
The thought of waiting another hour in those circumstances was more than Teresa was prepared to take, and before Carl had guessed her intention she had slipped from his hold and made for the bridge, one thought only in her mind; she had to make her uncle see sense, and she wasn't going to do it on the other side of the stream from him.
She heard Carl take off after her, but she had a running start on him. Her determination not to be coerced into marrying him gave her feet wings, and she had covered the short distance to the bridge in a matter of seconds. She didn't stop to think that the water might be deep in places, she only knew she had to get across that bridge, and she could plainly see the submerged portion of the bridge in the swirling water. Utterly disregarding Carl's shout, she flung herself on to the bridge.
As her feet touched the floor of the bridge, she let out a sigh of relief. Only a little way now. Carl shouted again. 'Keep to the side, Teresa!'
As if she could tell which was the side! Her feet were firmly on the bridge, although admittedly it appeared to be getting deeper in the section she was now passing, for the water was gradually creeping to her waist. Then it happened. What one
moment had been firm wood under her feet suddenly became a slimy morass; her feet shot out from under her, and she fell heavily against one of the wood stanchions, hitting her head hard against it as she tried to gain her balance.
When Teresa next opened her eyes, she blinked, and closed them again quickly. She was having hallucinations, surely? She knew this room well. She was not likely to forget such a beautiful room with its plush furnishings. Her eyes opened cautiously again, and this time focused on the bed that she was lying in, with fine linen sheets and silk wov
en counterpane. So it was true !
She was at Sunset Ridge!
Sitting up slowly, she winced as a slight pain shot through her forehead, and put an exploratory hand on the area concerned. A wide piece of sticking plaster covered what must have been a cut of some sort, and Teresa remembered her fall on the bridge, but after that, nothing. So she had been unconscious when she was brought to Sunset Ridge. Her lower lip caught in her even teeth; it looked very much as if her desperate bid to gain her uncle's help had gone sadly awry. Carl must have been pretty sure of his ground if he had had her brought there.
She lay back on the pillows again. What a pity she hadn't lost her memory again—at least she would have gained some respite that way. Carl couldn't go ahead with the wedding if the bride didn't know him! Her thoughts meandered on; why didn't these things happen when you needed them to? But she could make it happen! Her
eyes took on a brighter hue. All she had to do was pretend she didn't know him again, and he would have to send her back to her uncle!
She smiled; it was simple really. She would marry Carl only if they lived at Sunset Ridge, proving once and for all that the feud was over. If he agreed to that then Teresa didn't really care where they lived, be it north or south, as long as they were together, and Carl wouldn't be the only one who would have to bury the hatchet; Uncle Patrick must toe the line tool she told herself firmly. There were to be no half-measures. It wasn't too much to ask, surely?
The door of the bedroom opened a little way and Teresa stared at the bright sunlight now streaming through the frilled organdie curtains, unaware of Carl's scrutiny, her thoughts bringing a frown to her expression, so that when she did become aware of his presence it was not hard to feign surprise at the sight of him. He walked towards her with a kind of hesitancy that told her he was unsure of how to approach her, and of whether she knew him or not.
'How are you feeling?' he asked carefully.
Teresa was glad to be able to look away from his searching eyes, and put a hand to her head. 'Rather delicate,' she replied non-committally.
He nodded. 'Not surprising, considering the wallop you took,' he said conversationally. 'It was a very stupid thing to do, and a good job I was close behind you.'
Teresa did not answer, she dared not. She wasn't supposed to know what they were talking about, was she?
'I suppose you remember nothing?' he asked
casually, and sat down on the bed beside her.
She moved back a little way from him, remembering it was what would be expected of her, and he ought to have realised that, she thought crossly. Even if he had been a doctor he wouldn't have sat quite so close as that, particularly as she was in her nightdress. She gave a quick glance to the size of the gown she wore. Well, not her nightdress—Mrs Ray's, more likely! Coming away from these diverting thoughts, she realised that Carl was still awaiting an answer from her. She shook her head, and added a frown for good measure, wincing as the plaster pulled on her forehead at the effort.
'Oh, my !
' sighed Carl deeply. 'It's not what might be called an envious situation for us to be in on our honeymoon.'
Teresa was brought out of her lost-memory role with a jerk, and sat up suddenly and stared at him with wide eyes. 'Hon-honeymoon?' she got out in a strangled voice, and for a moment she wondered whether she really had lost her memory.
'It was such a lovely ceremony, too,' sighed Carl in a rueful voice that added to her confusion, and she continued to stare at him while her mind went over previous events. She couldn't have married him! How could she repeat her vows if she was unconscious?
It was as well for Teresa's peace of mind that she caught a wicked imp of amusement lurking at the back of his eyes. So that was it! He was trying shock tactics on her!
`I'm sorry,' she murmured in a timid voice, hastily lowering her lashes to prevent him spotting the
glint in her eyes. 'It must be awful for you. Y-you'll just have to give me time, won't you?'
'I'll give you a damn good thrashing, my girl, if you keep this up much longer ! ' he threatened.
Teresa hadn't given up yet; he couldn't be absolutely certain that she did know him. 'I don't think I like you! ' she said indignantly. `Go away and bully someone else.'
She heard the quick intake of breath and half expected to be given the threatened walloping then and there, but he wasn't through yet either. 'I must say I didn't expect to become a wife-beater so early in our marriage, but it rather looks as if I've no option. Come here! ' he commanded, and propelled her roughly into his arms.
She wasn't too sure how the punishment was going to be administered, and when she realised the form it was going to take, she became panic-stricken, for his lips roamed her forehead and his hands caressed her bare shoulders, sending shivers of anticipation through her. `I'm not your wife,' she cried frantically, 'stop it, Carl! '
He released her immediately, and holding her away from him he studied her through narrowed eyes. `So,' he said softly, 'we have the truth at last, do we?' and stopped her indignant protest by sealing her lips firmly with his.
`Give in?' he whispered a short while later, and a thoroughly weak Teresa could only nod her head and rest it on his shoulder. What did it matter, she thought, if it wasn't quite what she had wanted? He loved her and she loved him, and everything else paled into insignificance.
'The wedding's at two-thirty,' he announced calmly, grinning at Teresa's start. 'We've just made it,' he said, giving her a look that turned her heart over, 'I didn't have to cancel it after all.'
Woman-like, Teresa's thoughts turned to her trousseau. Her things were in the trunk, but 'My dress?' she asked.
Carl got up and walked to the wardrobe and flung open the doors for her to see the contents. 'Right where you left it, honey. It's been waiting for you,' he said airily, and added on a slightly thickened note, 'as I have.'
Her breath caught in her throat. 'Where are we going afterwards?' she asked quickly, in an effort to stem the impulse to hold her arms out to him. He was safer where he was—across the room from her.
His brow lifted in query. 'Could you stand the cabin again for maybe a week, or longer?'
He answer was in her eyes, and he had covered the distance between them in a second.
'Will you mind,' she murmured later, 'leaving here, I mean?'
Kissing her hair lightly, he replied, 'I thought we'd gone into all that,' then pulled her closer. 'I don't want you hurt, sweetie. I can only protect you by taking you away.'
Teresa frowned and pulled herself away from him so that she could see his face. 'Why should anyone want to hurt me?' she asked in genuine puzzlement, although a little ray of sunshine was creeping through her consciousness.
Carl's rueful eyes met hers. 'Isobel, for one,' he said slowly.
Teresa shook her head slowly as if trying to assimilate this disclosure. And she had thought ... She gave him an indignant look. 'You mean,' she said incredulously, 'that that's the reason you're insisting we go up north?'
Carl traced a loving finger down her cheek and softly touched her full lips. 'Believe me, sweetheart, it's for the best. They'd never let you live down the Rafferty connection. Isobel is only one of them. The rest will follow her lead, and the ladies of high society in these parts are a close-knit community. They have coffee mornings, tea parties—you know the sort of thing I mean. Oh, sure,' he said bitterly, 'you'll be asked to a few occasions at the start, and they'll make the right noises from curiosity if nothing else, but you'll soon find yourself excluded from everything, and I won't,' he added fiercely, have you hurt, or made to feel a social outcast, for that's what they'll do to you, and I won't always be around to see fair play.'
For a while Teresa found it impossible to say anything. How she had misjudged him! She buried her face in his chest. 'Oh, my love,' she whispered, the tears welling up in her eyes. 'As if I cared one iota about that sort of thing I As long as I have your love, nothing else matters, do you hear me?' she demanded, sniffing loudly in an effort to stop the tears.
Carl's arms tightened around her. 'It can be a lonely life for a woman out here, my sweet,' he said, burying his face in her neck. 'I don't think you quite realise how important these social get-togethers can become.'
'And that's what you want me to become, is it?' said Teresa in a muffled voice. 'A social butterfly?' She pushed him gently away from her and met his eyes. 'Shall I tell you what I'm going to become, Carl Elton?' she demanded in a voice that trembled a little. 'A wife and a mother. How'—her voice grew stronger—'how much time do you think I'm going to have for socialising when I want a huge family?' She sniffed. 'Well, not perhaps all that large,' she conceded, 'something on the lines of a rugby team, I thought ...' She was not allowed to finish the sentence.
A few hours later Teresa dressed for her wedding, that was to take place in the games room of Sunset Ridge. Not that it bore any resemblance to a games room by the time Mrs Ray and a few helpers had finished with it. The wood block floor had now been covered with a carpet and flowers were displayed in various fancy containers, and placed in every available space.
The guests had been cut to a minimum, and only very close friends of Carl's had been asked. Isobel and her parents, of course, had been given an invitation, but Isobel had sent a politely worded note to the effect that she was indisposed, but that her parents would attend. Teresa could find it in her heart to feel sorry for her, for had it been the other way round, she knew how she would have felt.
Adjusting the lace round her wrist, Teresa waited while Mrs Ray fussed round the hem of her dress to make certain it hung right. Her offer of help had come as a pleasant surprise to Teresa, who had
wondered at first whether she was working under orders from Carl, but she had given such unstinting attention to even the smallest detail that Teresa had come to the conclusion that it was not enforced labour, and this puzzled her a little, for Mrs Ray had been with the Eltons for years, so long in fact that she could almost be identified as one of the family. Would she mind a Rafferty ruling Sunset Ridge? Teresa wondered. Not that one would think so by the way she was fussing round her. It would certainly appear that that piece of mischief-making was the sole product of Isobel's feverish thinking. It certainly was not Carl's, for he had looked astounded when Teresa confessed the reason why she had repeatedly refused to marry him.
Teresa's thoughts then went to her uncle, and she wondered whether he would give her away, and if so what sort of a mood he would be in. If he didn't behave himself, she thought as she adjusted the veil over her bright hair, she would read him the riot act, and very likely bang his head hard against the nearest object!
Her expression was so fierce that it caused Mrs Ray to give her an anxious glance and ask, 'Is everything all right, dear? You're not having an attack of nerves, are you?'