Chapter 7
The year turned and turned again. Lyla had been in California for a month before she received a letter of response from her old friend Della Spargo—the textile factory had encountered unexpected difficulties.
The market seemed to be falling off, and there was too much competition.
In the meantime, workers were being let go by the dozens.
Della was holding on—for now—but Lyla could tell by her carefully worded optimism that she suspected it was just a matter of time.
She wrote to her again, urging her to think about coming to California.
I am sure that you’ll find much to love about it. The land is so very different from anything we’ve ever seen, with wide-open spaces and plenty of forests—it’s beautiful, and a completely different beauty from the things we considered to be so in the city…
As she signed the letter and sat back, looking it over, she couldn’t help but shake her head in marvel. Why, she had practically hated so much about West Hope during that first day or two after her arrival. And her feelings had been—well, they still were a bit complicated, she had to admit.
Especially when her thoughts drifted towards a certain potential outlaw.
But here she was, not only defending her new home but also encouraging Della to come there herself!
In the past few weeks, she found that she had come to enjoy her new life.
It was beautiful, after all. She was finally getting to know some of the folks around town, and even though all they ever really wanted to talk about was ranching and cattle, she found them pleasant enough company.
Stephen had even taken her to the saloon for a glass of beer, and it turned out not to be the den of drunkards she had feared—on top of that, she’d had the pleasure of being extremely polite and extremely smug with Tom, the mayor’s son.
The mayor was one thing, but the richest rancher in the whole county was quite another.
Even Sarah was coming around to her, it seemed.
Yes, if Della wanted to come here, she could do worse. And Lyla missed her friend rather desperately. Though she got along well enough with everyone at the ranch, including Stephen, she was not entirely comfortable. The only person she’d felt comfortable with since she had arrived was…
Well, there went her complicated feelings again.
Despite her best intentions, her thoughts kept returning to Rhett Hammond again and again. If only he weren’t a petty criminal! He had it in him to be a good man—perhaps even a great one. She was sure of it. Somewhere along the line, he must have gotten a bit lost. That was all.
And if it was the fault of the great disparity between the ranchers and the rest, then she couldn’t really lay all the blame at his door.
Nor could she lay it at Stephen’s, though.
Stephen was not particularly generous, but neither was he stingy.
He made sure that she had what she needed; she heard no complaints from the hands or the staff about their treatment or any delay in their wages, and of course Sarah was inclined to sing his praises in her own ironic way.
He wasn’t around as much as she might have liked, always having something to do on the ranch.
But one didn’t get to own the biggest ranch in California if one was an idler… did one?
The afternoon she was allowed to drive herself into town, without Sarah’s input or Stephen’s company, was a significant one indeed.
It made her feel quite grown up, in a strange sort of way, to hold the reins in her own hands and to nod her hellos to passersby on the street.
Everything was going along just fine when she turned the corner and gave a slight shriek of alarm as a figure leaped into the box beside her.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “I’m not going to demand your money or your life. Very few highwaymen do their robbing in the middle of town.”
By the end of his teasing speech, she had recovered herself and gave vent to her irritation.
“Rhett Hammond, how dare you? To scare a girl like that, when she’s trying to make her way through the streets…”
“Aw, I didn’t scare you that badly, did I?” He grinned, but there was something sheepish about it. “I’m sorry, Miss Lyla. I just saw you comin’ and I guess I gave in to an impulse.”
His tone was contrite, and she believed it was genuine. She couldn’t help but relent.
“Well, see that you don’t do it again,” she said severely.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“What are you doing, anyhow? I didn’t ask you to join me here.”
“Wouldn’t have been much of a surprise if you had.”
“I don’t need your help with my packages, if that’s what you’re thinking, so you might as well get down and be on your way right now.”
“All right,” he said, swinging down with alacrity and disappearing around the corner, leaving her staring after him—and fighting a surge of disappointment.
“I… didn’t mean… right now…” she faltered, but he was long gone and couldn’t hear her.
With an effort, she was able to settle herself, deciding that she’d better go about her business as though the incident had not even happened.
And yet, after that, it seemed she saw him everywhere she looked—at the dressmaker’s shop, where she went to inquire about a wedding dress, he was idling nearby, looking in the window.
At the mercantile, he was busily purchasing five pounds of sugar, “for the fruitcakes,” she heard him tell the boy behind the counter.
When she allowed herself the luxury of a cup of coffee and a slice of cake at the café, he was chatting with the proprietor near the counter.
And as she turned the corner on the way home, all her purchases carefully stowed in the back of the cart, she nearly ran him down, for he stepped into the street just in front of her.
She gave vent to another small shriek. He squinted up at her.
“Are you following me?”
“Am I—of course not! You’re following me!”
“Maybe I am,” he said, swinging himself back up into the seat beside her without waiting for an invitation. “What should we do about it?”
“You could stop,” she said severely, but he shrugged.
“Stephen’s not with you, I suppose.”
“No, he—is that what this is about?” Suddenly, it all seemed very clear to her.
She had already seen how delighted he was to get the better of Stephen.
He must know how irked Stephen had been to see her in the company of the man he accused of stealing his cattle.
And now, Rhett was appearing everywhere she went in town.
Hoping that Stephen would see them together, no doubt—hoping to land yet another blow on the wealthy rancher.
“What do you mean?”
Of course, she realized, that meant Rhett did not, in fact, have any feelings for Lyla herself—a thought that made her heart sink… and irritation grow.
“Oh, never mind,” she said crossly. “Be on your way, won’t you? I must get home before dark.”
“Home to Stephen, I suppose.”
“Yes, home to Stephen! I’m going to marry him, Rhett.”
For a moment, they froze, staring at each other.
Rhett’s eyes were wide, as though startled by this aggressive reminder of her engagement, and there was something innocent and na?ve deep within them that tugged at her heart.
She found that her breath was coming quickly and felt that something was mere seconds from happening—something, but precisely what, she did not know.
Then the teasing light returned to Rhett’s eyes, and he smiled crookedly.
“I guess you are,” he said. “After all, once you announce your engagement, there’s no going back, eh?”
“He—we have not yet announced our engagement.”
“Oh.” He fell silent for a moment, and she waited with bated breath. “Well, he’s awful busy running that ranch,” he said brightly. “I’m sure there’s no reason to worry.”
And then he was gone again, without a goodbye. She sat in silence for a moment before she picked up the reins and went on her way.
It might not have been a reason to worry, but she was worrying all the same.
The ranch house was a bit more like home than it had been when she’d first arrived—and yet, it was strange to remember, each time she came back, that it was Sarah who was truly in charge of it, not Lyla at all.
As she untied her bonnet strings and hung it in the hall, she glanced around herself, wondering whether it would ever really feel like her own home—rather than Sarah and Stephen’s.
No reason to worry. Rhett’s voice echoed in her ears.
Struck by an impulse, she picked up the vase that rested on the piano and carried it with her through the house, looking for a different place to put it.
It didn’t matter much, she supposed—it was more of a token than anything, proof that she, too, lived here.
That she, too, belonged here. The trouble was that it really did make the most sense to keep the vase on the piano, so when she arranged it on the sideboard in the dining room, it looked remarkably out of place.
She stood and stared at it for a while.
“Looks perfectly fine to me,” she said at last, and went to rest before supper.
Agitated and worn out for reasons she did not care to examine, she slept longer than she would have preferred. When she scurried down to the dining room, she was just in time to hear Stephen say, in baffled tones, “But who would have done it?”
“I’m sure I haven’t the faintest idea, Stephen.”
“And why?”
“I don’t know—it doesn’t make a lick of sense, as far as I can tell.”
As she came in, the two of them turned to her. Sarah looked rather irritable; Stephen looked mostly confused.
“Lyla—you don’t happen to know anything about that vase, do you?”
She glanced beyond them and winced a little. After her nap, it looked even more out of place.
“Why, yes,” she said. “I put it there.”
Sarah threw her hand in the air, and Stephen blinked at her.
“But why?” he asked. “That’s not where it belongs.”
Suddenly, it seemed a matter of vital importance that the vase stay exactly where Lyla had decided it ought. She lifted her chin and came to sit in her usual chair.
“I just thought it would freshen it up a bit in here, that’s all.”
“Flowers,” said Sarah. “In the dining room.”
“I think it would be lovely to have flowers everywhere,” Lyla said firmly. “After all, this house is no longer the house of a bachelor—is it? You must make some allowances for the feminine touch.”
Stephen and Sarah glanced at each other. The housekeeper sighed and left the room, shaking her head.
Stephen rubbed his hands together slowly.
“Lyla—let’s just leave things as they are.”
She raised her eyebrows at him.
“Everything?”
“Yes.”
“I’m not to change a single thing.”
“No,” he said, and it looked as though it pained him. “I’m—set in my ways, I reckon you’d call it. But I like it like that, and I’ve no desire to change.”
She stared at him, and felt her heart begin to sink toward her boots. He meant it, every word—he had no interest in changing, not even to accommodate his new wife. He’d lived his life with things just so, and he wasn’t about to alter anything now.
If he would not even allow for a variation in the placement of decorations in his home, would he ever be able to truly change his life enough to fit her into it? And what about the rather proud attitude that his wealth seemed to have brought about? Was there no room for changing that, either?
She could not ask him. He was a good man, she knew—but perhaps not a great one.
And now, she was certain that he never would be.
But she had agreed to marry him, and he had treated her with kindness, even though they were no closer now than they had been when she first arrived. Even though he still tended to leave her a little cold…
She swallowed hard and changed the subject.
“Very well, Stephen, just as you like. Stephen, might we hire another housekeeper to help Sarah? Or is there another position that needs to be filled? I’d very much like for my friend Della to come here, and she will need the work.”
He frowned, and she could tell that his first instinct was to turn her down flat.
“She’ll need money, hmm? I don’t know, Lyla.”
Changing a vase was beyond the pale, and now she wanted to bring another New Yorker here to stay? And someone who might need financial support? Goodness, how on earth was he going to react if they ever had children? Did he think they were free?
Secretly, she began to suspect that she knew why he had gone so long unmarried.
She’d never known someone quite so set in his ways, someone so…
stodgy. But she kept all her thoughts to herself—and congratulated herself on doing so.
Perhaps she was beginning to get a handle on this concept of “patience and self-control” at last.
“She’s a hard worker,” she said. “She won’t be any trouble or need anything from us.
Just a place to work and a bed to sleep in, that’s all.
And she’d be wonderful company for me,” she said, feeling her heart suddenly ache with the truth of it.
If she wasn’t to see Rhett Hammond anymore, as surely must be the case once she was married, then she could hardly bear the thought of living out the rest of her life without a close friend.
“Well, all right,” Stephen said uncomfortably. “Talk with Sarah about it, I guess.”
“I will. Thank you.”
“Oh, and Lyla…”
She looked up from her plate, waiting. Surely he couldn’t have changed his mind so quickly! But he gave her a slightly uncomfortable smile.
“I’m headin’ into town, to the saloon, this evenin’. A handful of the other ranchers are meetin’ up to discuss the rustlers and what should be done about it. Lyla, I’d like to announce our engagement to them there—and tell ‘em we’ll be married in two weeks’ time.”
Her throat suddenly went dry. Surely he could not discern that she was so undecided, so unsure – she could keep her thoughts to herself, keep them from spilling out of her mouth, at a time like this!
A few deep breaths, and the words she had wanted to say were tucked back into the depths of her heart. She managed a smile, though she could feel its weakness.
“Yes, of course,” she said. “Two weeks. That would be perfect.”
“Good.”
“Good.”
After he left that evening and Sarah had gone to bed, Lyla crept back downstairs. With her lips pressed together grimly, she retrieved the vase from where it had been replaced on the piano.
This time, she left it in the kitchen.