Liz Ireland (11 page)

“Just you wait, Oat,” she promised him. “Everything’ll work out.”

Embarrassed by Oat’s expression of gratitude, she lifted herself off the ground with effort and decided to take a short walk. “I think I’ll stroll before turning in,” she announced, yawning.

She hadn’t strolled twenty yards, however, before Will caught up with her, his face about as cheery as a thundercloud. He fell into step beside her, his hands clenched behind his back. “Just what do you think you’re doing?”

“Stretching my legs,” she said, trying to work the kinks out of muscles sore from being in a saddle all day long.

He scowled. “I meant, what did you think you were accomplishing by the load of hooey you were handing Oat back there.”

She lifted her chin. “I was only trying to cheer him up. Goodness, is that a crime?”

Will bristled impatiently. “Maybe it should be,” he said. “You heard him describe his marriage. Do you honestly think Mary Ann is going to jump in his arms the minute he knocks on her door?”

“You’re the one who’s always saying that we shouldn’t think the worst of Mary Ann,” she reminded him.

“I don’t think it’s unrealistic to accept the fact that Mary Ann shouldn’t have married Oat in the first place.”

His words finally managed to bring reality crashing back onto Paulie’s head. It had been so nice to imagine Oat and Mary Ann living happily ever after. But of course there was about as much hope of that as there was of Trip Peabody becoming a tightrope expert. And naturally, it would suit Will to a tee if Mary Ann
did
get an annulment.

Didn’t anything Oat had said make Will rethink his devotion to a woman who clearly didn’t deserve him?

“I won’t argue with you about that,” Paulie agreed. “If you want my opinion, the woman should be kept in a cage until she either grows up or grows some sense.”

She caught Will’s smile before he did himself and managed to sober his expression. “Anyway, all those promises you were making Oat were out of line. How do you intend to pay for the works at a barber’s when we’re travelling to San Antonio without a dime? Night Bird cleaned us out.”

His question brought a gleeful smile from Paulie. “Ha!” she cried triumphantly, taking off her hat to show him her ace in the hole. She reached into the ripped lining and pulled out twenty-eight dollars, which she waved in front of his stunned eyes. “He didn’t clean
me
out,” she bragged.

Unthinking, Will snatched the bills and counted them. “I’ll be switched!” he exclaimed. “How did you think to hide money in your hat?”

She laughed. “You forget, I’m a businesswoman,” she said. “I never keep all my money in one place. It’s safer that way.”

He shook his head good-naturedly and handed the dollars back to her. “Well, if you want to throw all your money away playing fairy godmother, I can’t stop you.”

She thought of Oat and how hopeful he had seemed and knew without a doubt that it would be money well spent.

They returned to camp, where Oat was sleeping sitting up against an old tree stump and Trip sipped water in front of the fire. Will wasted no time telling Trip about the money Paulie had squirrelled away, and Trip immediately wanted to see the evidence.

“By gum, Paulie, I always knew you was resourceful,” he said, inspecting her loot.

She flaunted her dollars and laughed as she pranced proudly in front of them. “Too bad Night Bird has such a low opinion of women. I would have made an excellent
bandito.”

“Bandits are supposed to steal money, not hide it,” Will pointed out.

“True, but I would have been excellent at knowing where to look for things to steal.”

The three of them laughed at her joke on Night Bird when suddenly Paulie looked over at Oat, snoozing soundly. “The thought of being in that barber chair must have calmed old Oat,” she said. “This is the first time in three days that the mention of Night Bird hasn’t jolted him awake.”

Trip laughed. “Maybe he just figures the worst has already happened.”

Paulie giggled as a devilish idea took hold of her. Before she could think better of it, she tiptoed over to Oat and whispered close to his ear, “Is that
Night Bird
standing over there by the fire?” She emphasized the name, hoping for a dramatic reaction.

When her words brought no response, she punched him lightly on the upper arm. Then she recoiled. Something was wrong—terribly wrong.

Her heart in her throat, she turned and beckoned Will with her eyes. “Something’s happened,” she said.

Will and Trip scurried over and Will knelt next to the man, lifting his arm to feel for a pulse. It didn’t take more than a moment to see the situation was hopeless. A lump the size of an orange formed in Paulie’s throat

“Oh, Will,” she moaned. “Can’t we do something…”

He looked at her sympathetically, but shook his head. “He’s dead, Paulie. Oat’s dead.”

O
at was laid to rest under the canopy of an old live oak tree in the spot Will estimated to be right in the center of his one-time whiskey route. All three of them agreed that it was an appropriate setting for his final sleep, for if there was anything that Oat enjoyed more than his old route, it was finding a cool shady place to take a long snooze.

They all did their best to make the service memorable, reciting what prayers they knew by heart and singing one of the many hymns they had learned from years of Dwight’s serenading them from the mercantile. In eulogy, none of them forgot to mention to God that they owed their lives to the gruff old man, to whom no one had given much consideration before he’d married Mary Ann Redfern.

“I guess I’ve seen Oat Murphy most every week of my life since I moved to Texas with my Daddy,” Paulie said, shaking her head. “You might say I took him for granted, even. When he married Mary Ann and gave up his route, I realized how much I depended on him. Then, when he decided to go along with us to find Mary Ann, I came to like him, like an old uncle you might say. Oat couldn’t have been feeling well these last few days, and Lord knows we were all scared, but he never once complained.”

Will nodded along with Trip as they stood on either side of Paulie over the newly turned earth, waiting for her to finish. After a moment of prolonged silence, though, Will saw Paulie’s shoulder’s shaking. He reached out and put a bracing hand on her back, touched by her effort not to lose control before she said what she had to say. In all the years he’d known her, he couldn’t remember seeing her cry. Her face was red from fighting off tears, and any moisture in her eyes she dashed away with the back of her hand.

“I guess I just want to finish by saying that Oat was a good friend.” She continued brusquely, but her voice was hoarse with emotion. “I’ll admit I fibbed to him a little, right there at the end, but I think it made him happy to think he might clean himself up and get his wife back. Leastways, I’m sure he’s content where he is now, where a body can rest all day, and knowing he won’t ever have to duel Oren Tyler.”

“And he won’t never have to face Night Bird again,” Trip added.

A smile touching her lips, Paulie looked at her friend. Will thought it odd that Trip wasn’t a little more comforting to Paulie when she was so upset, but he supposed Trip wasn’t one to show affection publicly.

Will and Paulie recited the Twenty-third Psalm, joined in by Trip on the bits that he could remember. After that, each said a final silent goodbye to Oat and then they walked back to their horses, their hearts still heavy. They tethered Oat’s mare, Beulah, behind Feather, and then started on their way again.

None of them felt much like talking, which wasn’t odd for Will, except that he was accustomed to hearing sound coming from Paulie’s direction. Usually she chattered like a magpie—especially when she was upset. No tears filled Paulie’s eyes now, but she appeared pensive and sad. They
no longer rode in their old diamond formation, since they were missing the bottom point, but trundled silently along three abreast, with Paulie in the middle. It seemed odd not to have Oat lagging behind them.

Will shook his head. The funny thing was, when he’d first heard about Oat and Mary Ann’s marriage, he’d blamed Oat for taking a wife half his age. Really, he’d been ready to strangle the old rascal. And that day that he’d come into the Dry Wallow to announce he’d lost her…well, it was a miracle Will had managed to rein in his temper long enough to form any kind of plan at all. No wonder he had ignored Paulie’s advice and run off half-cocked for the border, seeking out the first culprit he could think of.

But after hearing Oat’s side of the story last night, he understood the old man’s motives a little better. And Mary Ann’s.

Will wasn’t used to thinking of Paulie Johnson as the voice of reason, but he had to admit now that she’d been right from the start. Mary Ann hadn’t been snatched away from her home. She’d been seduced away, lured to San Antonio by an unscrupulous rake. Oren Tyler. He gritted his teeth even as he thought the name, and cursed his own hardheadedness.

His trip to the border had cost them precious time. A lot could happen to a girl like Mary Ann in San Antonio in a week. And this time if something terrible had befallen her by the time they arrived, he would have no one to blame but himself.

One thing was painfully obvious. He was thinking about Mary Ann.

As hard as she tried not to, Paulie couldn’t help tossing sidelong glances at Will. He hadn’t said a word since Oat’s funeral, and it wasn’t hard to guess why. Paulie knew he
was sad; despite the fact that he blamed Oat for Mary Ann’s disappearance, Will had never been anything but respectful to the old man. She would even bet that he had taken a grudging liking to him. But Oat’s death also opened up an opportunity for Will. His rival was out of the way now. There would be nothing to stop Will from marrying Mary Ann, just like he’d always intended.

So much for feeling elated that he seemed protective of her. Or jealous of Trip. She stared straight ahead, expressionless. All during their search so far, she had been fairly secure in knowing that even if they did locate her, Mary Ann was another man’s wife. Will might have said he wanted to steal her away, but when it came down to brass tacks, Paulie knew that he would never have been able to do anything so underhanded.

At least while Mary Ann was out of the way, Paulie had a sliver of a chance with Will. Now that chance had dwindled to a possibility so minuscule she was angry with herself for still tagging along after him, and making her coming heartbreak that much more difficult to bear. Yet as often as she told herself to give up on Will and go home, she couldn’t force herself to leave his side. Though she was just a banged-up, saddle-sore scrap of a thing, he needed her. He just didn’t realize it yet.

A sigh travelled through the air, and Paulie looked up in surprise. She knew the mournful sound hadn’t originated with her. And Will wasn’t the sighing type. She glanced over at Trip, who was staring dewy-eyed into the horizon.

“Say, Trip, are you feeling okay?”

“He doesn’t look good,” Will observed. Which was true. Not to mention, he was weaving in his saddle.

Trip shook his head. “I’m all right. I was just thinkin’…” Paulie and Will leaned toward him, and he ducked his head self-consciously.

“Thinking’s not a hangin’ offense,” Paulie joked.

He nodded in appreciation of her attempt at levity, but his face remained somber. “Well, I guess with all that’s happened—with us being caught by Night Bird, and then watching poor old Oat die—it’s made me realize that I’ve been squanderin’ a lot of time.”

Paulie could see what he meant. Those hours being tied up with a renegade Comanche manipulating her life and death as if she were nothing but a puppet on a string made her feel as if she had never appreciated her freedom.

“Anyways, I’ve been thinkin’ that from now on out I can’t waste my time like I have in the past.”

“Carpe diem,”
Will said, nodding once.

Paulie and Trip turned to him questioningly. “Beg pardon?” she asked.

Will smiled. “It’s a Latin phrase Gerald taught me. It means ‘seize the day,’ or like Trip said, don’t let life pass you by.”

Trip nodded vigorously. “That’s just it. From now on I’m going to
carp…carp…
Well, whatever it was that you said.”

“I guess that makes sense,” Paulie agreed.
Carpe diem.
She liked the idea better the more she thought about it. “There are several things I’ve been puttin’ off that I’ve been wanting to do. Like getting a new pump for the well. That sure would be a big help.” She turned back to Trip. “What were you figuring on rushing out and doing now that you’ve discovered this new zest for life?”

“Gettin’ married.”

Paulie stared at Trip in surprise, but her expression couldn’t have been as stunned as Will’s. “Married!” he exclaimed.

Paulie chuckled. “Trip Peabody, you’ve been sayin’ you’re going to get married since I’ve known you.”

“But now I
know
I want to get married,” he answered decisively. “Immediately.”

She looked into his eyes and saw that he was dead-on serious. “Lord, Trip—I think you mean it!”

“’Course I mean it. Would I have said so if I didn’t?”

Paulie shook her head in wonder. “Well, this is a change. I’ve never seen you in a hurry to do anything before—especially not to run to the altar.”

Beside them, Will cleared his throat. He’d been so quiet since Trip’s announcement, Paulie had almost forgotten he was there. “You know…” He hesitated, as if weighing his words carefully. “There’s such a thing as being too hasty…”

Paulie hooted. “Hasty!” she cried. “The man’s been a bachelor for forty-three years.”

“Forty-two,” Trip corrected with pride.

“Well all right, but the world would hardly say you hadn’t had time to give the matter of matrimony sufficient thought,” Paulie argued.

“Naturally
you’re
eager for him to make up his mind…” Will said testily to Paulie before locking a sobering gaze on Trip. “But marriage isn’t something you can just rush into. If you’re thinking of running off tomorrow—”

Trip’s eyes widened to the size of wagon wheels, and as he swallowed his Adam’s apple bobbed laboriously up and down his throat. “Tomorrow?” he asked, his voice a raspy squeak.

“Wasn’t that what you intended?” Will asked him. “You said immediately…”

Trip glanced nervously between Will and Paulie, drumming his fingers against his saddle horn. Apparently marrying a woman in his imagination was an entirely different matter than actually marrying her in person. In his eyes,
Paulie could see the wheels of procrastination beginning to turn once more.

“Well now, when I said immediately, I didn’t exactly mean
immediately
immediately.”

Paulie drew her brows together, trying to understand just what that word did mean to Trip. “So what’s your plan?”

Trip’s busy fingers moved to the gray stubbling his chin, which he rubbed anxiously. “Well you can’t expect a man to propose to a woman lookin’ like I do. I’d definitely need a new suit first, and maybe get cleaned up like you told Oat to do.”

Will drew back, looking as if the whole conversation confounded him. “I wouldn’t think you two would have to stand on ceremony.”

“That’s another thing!” Trip said, grasping at every straw he could get his hands on. “There’s the ceremony to plan. A woman wants her wedding day to be something she can remember. And I wouldn’t want it to be just like any old day, either. Not after all this time.”

Paulie chuckled. “Trip, you’re a case.”

The plan solidified in Trip’s imagination. “Since I’m goin’ to San Antonio anyways, it’ll be no trouble to get myself outfitted with some new duds.”

“You don’t have any money,” Paulie said.

Trip looked annoyed. “Well, there ain’t no harm in shoppin’ around, is there? Not like I could buy Tessie a ring in Possum Trot, you know. I can look. And like Will said—I don’t have to be too hasty. Once I’m sure I can find the right suit and a ring,
then
I can go immediately back to Possum Trot and ask Tessie to marry me.”

“Immediately, finally,” Paulie said with a laugh.

“Tessie!”
Will shouted, as if he’d never heard the name before. He gazed incredulously at Trip. “Tessie Hale?”

“Well sure,” Trip said.

Paulie looked at Will and suddenly understood his confusion. Trip had apparently forgotten that their friend was under the delusion that they were sweethearts, and for a short while, so had she. Will probably thought Trip was on the verge of proposing to
her,
which, now that she thought about it, was some progress. A few days ago back in Possum Trot, he’d acted like no man in his right mind would even consider her a female, much less a marriageable one. Still, she didn’t want Trip to know that she’d never put Will wise to the deception she’d played on him.

“Of course Tessie Hale,” she said, gazing pointedly at Will. “Who else could he mean?”

Poor Will stared back at her with brown eyes that were completely perplexed. “I—I don’t know,” he mumbled, as confused as an actor who found himself saying lines from the wrong play.

“Tessie will make a beautiful bride, Trip,” Paulie told him.

Trip’s lips curled into a blissful grin, and his gaze was faraway and misty again. “She sure is a peach.”

“More of a peach than those scraggly things she grows in her backyard,” Paulie said, unable to resist a dig at the woman’s ill-fated hobby.

Will turned to Trip. “Well,” he said, snapping back into the flow of the conversation, “If your mind’s so made up, Trip, I’d think you’d be so excited about marrying Tessie you wouldn’t want to put it off for another single day.”

Trip looked alarmed. “Well, it would be just a week.” He swallowed. “Or thereabouts.”

“Yes, but—”

Trip held up a hand palm-out and insisted, “After I get back from San Antone will be immediately enough for Tessie and me.”

“Or maybe you should send for Tessie while we’re in
San Antonio and get married there,” Will suggested helpfully.

Paulie frowned at Will’s erratic advice. A minute ago he’d been telling Trip that he shouldn’t rush into things. Probably he was hoping now that they could have a double wedding. Trip and Tessie, Will and Mary Ann. And she herself would be there, too. In the exciting role of witness.

Swerving off the mental path he’d set for himself clearly made Trip anxious. “No…I think we’d like to be married right there in Possum Trot,” he said. “Soon as we can convince a preacher to come out.”

“But that could be a month!” Will told him.

Trip shrugged. “It ain’t like we got to rush into anything.”

So much for seizing the day, Paulie thought. Will was right about one thing. If Trip waited another month, he might forget all about his resolution to not waste his life away putting off marrying Tessie Hale. Given the fact that the man had been stuck in the same rut for his entire adult life, it probably wouldn’t be difficult for him to jump right back into it. After all, what were six hours of fear as a renegade’s captive weighed against forty-two years of bachelorhood?