Eyes of Silver, Eyes of Gold (20 page)

Cord drove the little mare through town with Armand, then watched as the LeClercs took turns driving. On their final swoop past the church, Helene had the reins, and the two were laughing like children.

Cord tugged his hat down lower over his eyes. Such unrestrained merriment embarrassed him. Still, he drove LeClercs to their doorstep and promised to deliver the mare the next Sunday and stay for dinner. Anne would enjoy visiting with the couple again.

Anne left her mother and brother in the churchyard as he halted the horse in the street. It appeared that Leona Wells had never stopped crying, and Rob was still glowering at them both.

On the way home Cord probed a little. “How was your mother?”

“Weepy.”

“And your brother?”

“Self-righteously disapproving.”

She dismissed the whole subject as unimportant. “Do you suppose in addition to Willie you should harness break another of those little horses to sell?”

“Willie?”

“Sweet William, the bay gelding.”

“Mm. Maybe.”

Cord wondered if he ought to warn Bob Windon that he was in danger of being put out of business soon.

EDWARD WELLS HAD BEEN ANGRY
when he’d realized his daughter would not come home. When he realized she was not in Chicago as everyone supposed, his fury knew no bounds. In Edward’s opinion Anne needed to spend the rest of her life living like a recluse in Chicago to mitigate the disgrace she had brought on the family.

At first, Edward, like his son, had maintained that Anne was not really married. After Rob reported the conversation over lunch with Ephraim and Martha, and after a raging confrontation with Reverend Pratt, Wells admitted to himself that his daughter was indeed married to the regrettably still alive half-breed.

Having for years been obsessed with seeing his daughter married, Edward was now obsessed with seeing her marriage ended. He would have liked to just ride out to the ranch with another mob and take her, but Edward knew that when the Double M men left town two of them had gunshot wounds. He had heard rumors about how they got those wounds. Thinking Cord could have shot two men so soon after a beating that should have killed him disturbed Edward, so he pushed the thought out of his mind. And he knew the half-breed was never going to be caught unawares like that again.

Edward only attended church on Easter and one or two other occasions a year. Rob, however, dutifully reported Anne’s presence at Sunday services, and further that she had talked to Leona and to him while Cord was off selling a horse. Hearing this, Edward didn’t bother concealing his smile. If his daughter was going to be in town under such circumstances, it shouldn’t be too difficult to get her back under his control again shortly.

Actually, it would take Edward several weeks to find the kind of man he wanted and to make arrangements for what he wanted done.

* * *

Chapter 21

ANNE WAS DELIGHTED TO FIND
that behind the house near the creek there was an orchard of fruit trees. Cord’s father had planted them many years ago, and they had not been tended since the family moved to the big house. Apple, peach, plum, and cherry - all were still producing to some extent. Cord helped himself to fresh fruit when it was in season but did nothing about the orchard. Anne began planning pies, cobblers, jams, and a winter supply of preserved fruit.

Even better was her discovery of a patch of wild strawberries, also a legacy of Jamie Bennett’s early years on the ranch. Near the strawberries was a rectangle of ground that showed signs of long-ago cultivation, and she began to make plans for a large garden in the same spot.

Cord seemed indifferent to all these plans except for a sardonic remark that if she were going to keep hand feeding the horses she should plant the whole thing with carrots. They were better for the horses than the sugar she filled her pockets with every morning.

Anne purchased small quantities of all the seeds she wanted and ten times more carrots than should be necessary for two people at Miles’ store. The next day she eagerly searched the carriage shed, found a shovel, and started for the garden spot.

Cord caught her halfway. “What are you doing with the shovel?”

“I’m going to start digging up the garden.”

“You’re not digging anything.”

“You can’t garden without turning the ground,” she said reasonably. “I’m going to take several days and do it little by little.”

“No, you’re not.”

She thrust the shovel at him. “All right, then you do it.”

“I’m not digging up anything that size with a shovel either.”

Her temper took immediate flight. “Then why didn’t you say so yesterday instead of acting like it was all right and letting me waste money on all those seeds? Damn you, why couldn’t you just open your mouth and
say
something for a change?”

Humiliated to find she was sobbing by the end of this, she turned and ran for the house.

Cord watched her fleeing figure with a sinking feeling. This was not at all what he had intended, and he had no idea how to undo it. With a sigh, he returned the shovel to the shed and saddled up one of the three-year-olds he was now working for a long ride.

Anne was angrier than she’d ever been before, not exactly refusing to speak but coldly distant. That night there was no cheek against his shoulder, no fingers curved around his arm muscles, but a space between them and her back toward him, accusing.

The next morning through the kitchen window he noticed a small patch of turned earth in the garden area. On his way to the barn he gathered up every implement that might be used for digging and buried them in the hay in the hay barn. He was now feeling as stubbornly furious as she was.

Two days later they were still stalking around each other in almost total silence. Cord waited for the fatal words - I’ve had enough of this, I’ve had enough of you, I want to go to Grenerton, I want to go home, I want to be anywhere but here.

His mood didn’t improve when Foxface sounded an alarm, and Frank rode into the yard. He had arrived at lunch time, and Anne politely invited him to eat with them, but it was only minutes before Frank sensed the angry currents swirling around the room.

“I’d say you two aren’t getting along too well,” he said.

Anne showed no more inclination to respond to this than Cord.

Frank’s sympathies, of course, all went in one direction. “Anne, if you want help to….”

He got no further. Anne’s fists banged on the table, making the dishes rattle, then she was on her feet, absolutely screaming, days of pent up fury exploding all at once.

“Don’t you say it. So help me if you say it, I won’t just run you out of the house, I’ll
shoot
you. We’re having a fight, and it’s none of your business. Don’t you tell me in over twenty years of marriage you and your wife never had a marital quarrel. I’m so mad at him I’d like to beat him worse than Meeks did. I’d like to shoot him so full of holes he could be a sieve. I’d like to cut off his head and bury it somewhere far away from his body, but I’ll get over it. We’ll work it out and life will go on, and in the meantime, it’s none of your
business
.”

Feelings vented, Anne ran out the front door, slamming it so hard the whole house seemed to quiver.

Frank actually looked shaken as he asked, “Does she get like that often?”

“Nope, you seem to rile her.” Cord knew quite well how very few women had ever disconcerted his brother.

”
I
rile her? She wants to kill you, dismember you, and disperse your body parts, and
I
rile her?”

“You kind of rub her the wrong way.”

Glancing at his brother now and then as if to keep alert for further lunacies, Frank got busy finishing his lunch.

Cord ate the rest of his food without tasting it, his spirits rising steadily. These past days of hell were not the end of everything, they were a “marital quarrel,” and they were going to work it out. He wanted to say the words aloud and taste them. He had vague recollections of Judith walking around the big house looking stiff and steely-eyed and Frank banging and cursing, of Martha and Ephraim acting the same way. A marital quarrel.

Frank got around to what he had come for. “Look, Cord, you know Eph and I would like to have you come to the house Sundays. You know why you can’t.”

Cord felt irritation at having to think about something else right then. “Yeah, I know. Don’t worry about it.”

“They’re our
sons
.”

“If they want it bad enough, they’ll get it sooner or later, no matter what you do. You know that.”

“Maybe not. I’m not going to sit by and watch you beat my son to death, brother or no.”

“I’m not going to kill your damn son, Frank. If you don’t know it, you should.”

Frank stood up, conflicting emotions showing in his face. “I don’t know it. I don’t believe it. I wish I did.”

Cord shrugged and didn’t reply as Frank walked out. There was no sign of Anne anywhere as he walked to the barn. He didn’t look for her but just threw work harness on Keeper and headed for the carriage shed, starting what he had intended to do days ago.

Anne was sitting behind the barn with Foxface curled beside her and a lap full of barn cats. She had stopped crying, and her anger was beginning to dissolve. Having Frank Bennett of all people catch her fighting with her husband and letting him goad her into losing control made everything worse.

She was ready to put it all aside and try to forget about the garden. She would give the seeds to her mother next Sunday and be done with it. The trouble was that as the months passed, she liked Cord more and more, and this was spoiling things. She would never like him quite so much again. If he’d said something when she first mentioned a garden, but to wait and then pull what she could only see as an exercise of power over her. She really had been foolish to believe he wasn’t like that. Well, as her mother said, it was her bed of thorns.

The shadows were lengthening. She could hear noises in the barn that told her he was beginning evening chores, but she went back to the house, avoiding him as she had for the last several days. Tomorrow morning, she thought, I will get up and act as if it never happened and it doesn’t matter. There will be other times like this over the years, and I’m going to learn to handle it.

Anne was alone in the bed when she woke in the morning. She knew Cord didn’t expect her to come to the barn with him anyway and had not bothered to wake her. But today she was going to stop the childish display of temper. So determined, she went out to the kitchen and started preparing breakfast.

Glancing through the kitchen window, she caught sight of the garden area. For the past days the sight had been an aggravation, but now she stared unbelieving. Then she walked slowly outside to stand at the edge of the plot. It’s not just plowed, she thought, he’s done something more. I couldn’t rake it any finer. She swallowed hard, feeling all at once very small.

Cord was almost finished in the barn, pouring milk into low pans for the cats. He became very still as Anne approached. For once she was having trouble meeting his eyes. “Cord?”

He leaned over and filled another pan, not answering.

“I don’t blame you if you’re not feeling very forgiving. I did the same thing your family always does, didn’t I? Took a fast look at things and jumped to the very worst conclusion possible.”

“I could have explained.”

“Maybe you would have if I hadn’t been so busy calling you names.” Anne’s voice was a husky whisper. “I’m sorry, really. I wish I could promise it won’t ever happen again, but I can’t even do that. I’ll try. Trusting seems to be the hardest part.”

“Just grow something worth eating in the damn thing after all this, will you.”

She gave him a small watery smile. “Are you still angry?”

“No, I’m not angry.”

Her smile broadened a bit. “There might not be room for anything for us to eat after I plant all the carrots.”

They walked to the house together, at peace for the first time in days, both convinced they were never going through anything like that again.

* * *

Chapter 22

THE NEXT SUNDAY CORD WATCHED Anne’s unforgiving glares have the usual effect on Reverend Pratt with amusement. Maybe he ought to point out to her that the stuttering meant the service took longer, more time having to pretend to listen to Pratt’s hypocritical platitudes.

When church finally let out, he headed back to where they had left the buggy, leaving Anne with her mother under Rob’s surly guard and the Bennetts watching over Luke and Pete as if they were baby chicks and a hawk was visible in the sky.

He pulled off his jacket and tie and folded them across the buggy seat, drinking in deep breaths of the spring air, admiring the pale yellow-green halos on the trees that were just beginning to leaf out. Maybe today they’d stop somewhere on the road on the way home to eat the lunch Anne packed instead of eating in the buggy as the horse clipped along the way they had been doing. The day was too pretty not to take time and enjoy it.