Carla Kelly (15 page)

She stood a minute more on the platform, squinting her eyes and commanding the train to materialize. When it didn't, she took the streetcar home, feeling massively sorry for herself. Mama was out hunting for a few more baskets for flowers and Papa had gone to the bank to clear out some work so he could take a few days off. They were planning to come home together, so there was no one at home to listen to her woes. After another squinty-eyed glare at the clock in the kitchen, she did what she always did in moments of crisis: she reached for the cook book.

What to make? The mints were done, the nuts all sealed in canisters. She had successfully hidden the hand-dipped chocolates from both her father and her older brother, David, who was due tomorrow from St. George with his family. Mitchell had to remain behind because her other sister-in-law was expecting confinement any minute.

She ran her finger down the table of contents and stopped at salad rolls, the perfect complement to her dinner of broiled steak, tried-and-true duchess potatoes, and that aspic, cooling so patiently in the ice box—Paul's favorite things.

She prepared a double batch and experimented with rolls shaped like crescents, twists, braids, and bow-knots. Grim and silent, she thundered down maledictions upon the president of that faulty Union Pacific Railroad and made a row of tiny hangman's nooses, which made her laugh. She gradually relaxed and finally caught herself humming as she arranged the last bits of dough into little rabbits—cooking had worked its usual magic on a disordered mind.

The front door opened a few minutes after the rabbits, nooses, and bow knots went into the Majestic. “High time, my dears,” Julia called out. “You were a long time getting home and I have
such
a complaint against the UP. Papa, I trust you don't have shares in that miserable company.”

“Um,
I
do. What's up, sport?”

Julia gasped and turned around as Paul, his overcoat muddy, scooped her up into his arms and kissed her. She grabbed him tight around the neck until he started to make strangling noises.

Julia held herself off from him. “You're such a tease,” she said, then put her forehead against his. “What's so funny about that is no one in Wyoming would believe me if I told them. I love you.”

She put her cheek close to his again and whispered softly in his ear. “‘What's up?’ I'm looking at the object of my delight. Mr. Otto, I'm getting married!”

“Ditto on both of those statements,” he said and kissed her again.

He sat down with her at the table, his arms around her but also in easy reach of the rolls. “Do you mind? I'm famished. The UP nearly drowned me in a mudslide and the dining car was uncoupled at Evanston because the cooking range exploded. You'd better be worth all this trouble!”

She gave him such a look then, one Mama would never approve of and that would have made her great-aunties fan themselves. “I am, Mr. Otto,” she said. “I am.”

The look she got in return prompted her to get off his lap and retreat to the cabinet where she kept the butter.
Steady, Julia
, she thought as she sparred for time, finding the butter, raspberry jam, and a knife, then threw caution to the winds and sat on his lap again.

“Darling, you're a welcome armful,” he told her as he reached around her to butter two rolls. “The past month, I've been wrestling with calves that were in no hurry to come into this cold, cruel world; lassoing beeves out of mud banks; and eating so-so grub since Charlotte went home for a few weeks.” He nuzzled her neck with his dayold whiskers, and she shrieked. “And my little sweethearts have told me not to return to the bunkhouse, ever.”

She leaned against his chest, buttering another roll for him as he ate, content to stay where she was, even if his ranch hands didn't want him and his overcoat was muddy.

“You're going to be staying next door at the Callahan's place, because my brother David will be in his old room with his whole family, and my great-aunties from Pleasant Grove are taking Iris's room,” she told him. “Mama said it would be safer to have you next door. She had Papa dig a moat and put in alligators.”

Paul laughed. “Have you gotten all kinds of marriage advice from friends and relatives and unknown passersby?”

“I have! I've discovered that everyone loves a bride.”

“I know I do, Darling.”

When he finished eating, he set her off his lap, removed his overcoat, and tossed it onto the back porch. “When it dries, I'll scrape off the mud,” he told her. “When are your parents coming home?”

“Any time now, and my brother is expected soon too. And my aunties.” Julia sighed. “This is about the only time we're going to have alone together until the wedding.”

“Let's make the most of it,” he told her as he sat down again and patted his lap. He held her close, his eyes closed. “This has been the longest six months of my life. There aren't enough cold baths in the universe.”

There wasn't anything to say to that, so she didn't try. It was enough, for now, just to feel his arms around her and listen to the beating of his heart.

“I do have a matter of business to discuss, Darling,” he said. “You smell so good. I like that combination of yeast and…” He sniffed. “Vanilla?”

She nodded. “I dab a little behind each ear. Cook's secret.
This
is business?”

“Not this! The business has to do with McLemore.”

Julia sat up and looked at him. “Charlie
McLemore
?”

“I want your opinion on something, even if it does dredge up bad memories. Remember when I told you last summer that we cut the fences so the cattle could run and maybe outrace the fire?”

She nodded, feeling that familiar chill and remembering that day. She rubbed her arms.

“I had already cut the fences on my own land and had finally convinced most of the others to do the same to theirs. My cattle were long gone, and so were the ones on the open range.”

She thought about what he was saying. “You
are
a gambler. What made you do that before the others?”

“Pa and I had done exactly that years ago, but we were slow then and lost most of our herd. Tough times. I give all the credit this time to the Holy Spirit, because I wasn't sure.” He chuckled. “I prayed about it. Just sat there on Chief, with all the others staring at me, bowed my head, and prayed about it. The answer was just two words: ‘Cut'um.’ So I did, even though the others told me not to, because the wind probably wouldn't shift.”

“I hope Mr. McLemore didn't make fun of you for praying,” Julia said.

“They all did. And you know McLemore.” He nudged her. “Goodness knows he teased you enough about your cooking.” His voice was serious again. “McLemore argued with me, stalled, and lost most of his beeves. He was over-extended anyway, and with that loss, he's about to go under. Allen Cuddy—remember him?—shares a fence line with McLemore. So do I, of course, and I wouldn't mind dividing up McLemore's land with Cuddy.”

“So you and Mr. Cuddy would buy out Mr. McLemore?” she asked.

Paul nodded, then twined his fingers in her curls. “I've been wanting to do this for a long while. Did you cut it?”

“Just for you, because you like it,” she said, her eyes closed, enjoying the feel of his hand in her hair. “How does Mr. McLemore concern me?”

“Before I left the Double Tipi, he asked me to bankroll him for one year—be a silent partner and help him get on his feet again. If I don't, he'll have just enough to cover his losses when we buy him out, but he'll be broke. If I do, he'll pay me back gradually. What should I do, Darling?”

She turned around to look at him, flattered. “I'm pleased, but why does my opinion matter? This is a ranch decision.”

There was no overlooking his surprised expression. “Exactly. It's your ranch too, Darling, or will be in a few days. We're in this pickle together from now on. Any thoughts?”

“I'm an equal partner?”

“None better. I'll be asking your advice on most ranch decisions from now on. That's what my parents did.”

She sat a moment in silence, savoring the idea, then patted his chest.

“What's that for?” he asked, amused.

“Nothing in particular, except that you are my best fellow,” she told him. She looked into his eyes. “You know what to do, Paul. I see it in your eyes, and I approve.”

He hugged her. “I thought you'd agree. You realize that if I become too philanthropic, I'll never maintain my status as Wyoming's stockman to tread lightly around.”

“Yes, you will. I doubt Mr. McLemore will want to shout this deal to the rooftops.”

“I'm certain you're correct,” Paul agreed. “Personally, I can take McLemore or leave him, but his father helped me a lot after my pa died, and I owe his memory.” He picked up her hand and kissed it. “What do you say we give Charlie McLemore a year, but that's all?”

She nodded. “It's fair, and I agree.”

She heard Papa's automobile in the back alley. “They're home,” she said into his chest. “I'd better get off your lap and look like the soul of decorum.”

“You could try,” he agreed, tightening his arms around her waist. “Or you could stay where you are. I think they'd be more surprised if you were off my lap.”

“I'll stay here then. Goodness knows they don't need any more surprises. I've been enough of a trial.”

She heard their footsteps on the walk, took Paul's face in her hands, and kissed him. “That's in case you forgot for just the smallest second that I'm mightily impressed with you.”

“Not a chance, sport.”

Church the next day was an unalloyed pleasure, with the women casting little glances at her fiancé, marvelous in his black suit and vest, paisley tie, and new Stetson (the bowler hat had never seemed right; even Mama agreed).

“Everyone's looking at you because they can't believe my good fortune,” she whispered.

“No, they're looking at
me
because they can't believe someone as sweet as you would show such pity on a broken-down rancher,” he whispered back.

“You're hopeless, Brother Otto.”

“I know, Sister Darling.”

Sharing her bed that night with one of her St. George nieces, Julia found herself smiling into the dark, laughing to herself about the way her brother David took Paul aside after sacrament meeting and insisted on a walk, even though it was raining. All Paul had time to tell her when they returned was, “I've been threatened and warned,” which made her glare at David. Her brother only raised his eyebrows like Papa and looked more innocent than a roomful of Young Ladies Mutual Improvement girls.

Monday morning saw the Darling men and Paul off to the church office, Paul with his endorsements from President John Herrick of the Western States Mission, his priesthood certificates, and another endorsement from Heber Gillespie, Cheyenne Sunday School Superintendent.

“It's like this, Jules,” Papa said as she prepared French toast for everyone. “There's no officially constituted branch or ward in Cheyenne, so permission for admittance to the temple has to come from a General Authority.”

“I'm a lot of trouble,” Paul said cheerfully, holding out his plate for more French toast.

“I already knew that,” Julia said.

By the end of the day, she was standing in the parlor, almost with her nose pressed against the window like a child, willing the men to come home and spare her from one more particle of good advice from well-meaning aunts, a dear sister-in-law, and visiting teachers who seemed to find it necessary to stop by. Mama had wisely retired to the hairdresser's.

I just want to be married
, Julia thought and sighed, which made the window steam. She breathed on it again when she finally saw Papa stop his Pierce Arrow in front of the house and let out Paul and her brother. She breathed again and wrote “HELP!” in reverse on the glass. She sighed with relief when Paul's head went back and he laughed.

“I mean it,” she murmured when he opened the front door. “Get me out of here!”

“Get your coat,” he said.

Before anyone could stop her, she snatched up her coat and took his hand as he pulled her outside and into the wet snow.

“There now,” he said as he stood with her on the sidewalk and buttoned her coat. “Where do you want to go?”

“Anyplace where I do not have to hear well-meaning advice,” she told him frankly. “The swings at the elementary school.”

He crooked her arm in his, a look of real understanding on his face. “It would be really precocious children who would give you marriage advice on the playground.”

“Precocious? My goodness, did you start reading Doc's dictionary again?” she teased, already feeling better.

“You know I have a good memory.”

When they reached the playground, Paul dusted the snow off and made her sit while he swung her. She tipped her head back, breathed deep of the cold air, and imagined herself on the Double Tipi. Paul was right; it
had
been a long six months.

After a few minutes, he slowed the swing and then stopped it. “Better?”

She nodded. “How did you fare today?”

“Better than you did.” He patted his coat pocket. “I am now the proud possessor of one temple recommend, complete with permission for endowment and marriage. I almost feel as though I should ask you again to marry me.”