The Bridal Promise Page 5

  How could he explain to Perri that she was no longer the true source of his anger, but instead a painful reminder of his own dreadful mistakes? Pride made it all but impossible to acknowledge the need he now felt for the woman Perri had become without him. A woman he just knew was going to leave.

  Ransoms didn’t leave. They stayed. They remained anchored to the land; ever since 1891, when a spinster schoolteacher had taken in a half-breed foundling and raised him for her own.

  Miss Vienna Whitaker, obviously Southern and a lady to her fingertips, had named the baby Matthew Lawrence, after her beloved father. But for reasons unknown. Miss Vienna had given the child the last name of Ransom.

  The citizens of Spirit Valley could only speculate as to why she had chosen the name. Some thought it a good name. With no one in Indian Territory named Ransom, no one could be blamed for having fathered a half-Indian baby.

  Those citizens with a dictionary alongside the family Bible, had puzzled over what the ransom was for. If raising the child was the price of atonement, then what was the sin? And whose, exactly? Miss Vienna hadn’t seen fit to share her reasoning. She had quietly raised a fine son, who later became a much-respected member of the community.

  Like his father, Sam, Matt didn’t give much thought to the source of their need to take care of what his great-greatgrandfather had been given. Nor did he give any thought to his automatic mistrust for those who moved on. Its origins were as deeply engrained as the desire to maintain a well-respected position in the community. His folks had always stayed, spit in the dust and stuck it out.

  No, Ransoms didn’t leave, they were too busy. None had shirked the responsibility of family and land. None, that is, except for one. Matt’s grandfather, Lawrence Ransom, had done just that when he had run off with Anne Marlowe, the grandmother of Pern Stone.

  Since that time everything had changed. It certainly had stained Matt’s love for Perri. As soon as Matt had declared his intention to make Perri his wife, everything he had subsequently put his heart into had turned to dust. Even later on when his brother had drifted off, the unspoken assumption had been that somehow the wounds of the past had caused Whit to leave town as soon as he was able. But the violence and scandal their grandparents had launched was not Perri’s fault. It shamed him to think he couldn’t rise above that one fact. Matt noticed that it evoked interest to realize that he still could feel a sense of shame about anything.

  He wished he could muster up some feelings for the way he had treated Perri twelve years ago. But they were locked in ice. Matt had wanted to destroy her that night. He speculated now on just how close he had come to achieving his goaL

  Once Sam had stormed out of the house that night, Leila had laid it on thick about the old scandal. Then as if his grandparents hadn’t been reason enough, she had told him his father was keeping Janie Stone—Perri’s mother—as his mistress. Matt’s attempts to reason with her had only served to make his mother more lethal.

  Today, his own youthful arrogance and naiveté astounded him. He had foolishly assumed his parents’ objections would be due to Perri’s age; and he had been preparing his argument for some time along that line. He knew now that he had underestimated his mother as a fighter. But then, he had never gone up against anyone like her.

  The force of her rage had been terrifying. And underneath the emotions, what she had said had made some sense. His mother had made it plain that Perri Stone couldn’t possibly love a Ransom. After all, since Perri was aware of Sam’s involvement with Janie, then her eagerness to marry Matt had to be founded on a desire to exact some small degree of revenge on the Ransoms. If Perri had truly loved him, Leila had made it clear that Marlowe honor would have demanded Perri let Matt go.

  Looking back on it, his actions later that night had been due as much to the way Leila had aroused his emotions as to what she had actually said to him. He had left a sobbing Leila and gone for a much-needed drive to cool off. He hadn’t wanted to go directly to Gledhill and have it out with a seventeen-year-old girl who loved him. But by the time Matt did show up, he hadn’t been able to calm his fury over his mother’s accusations.

  He could still see Perri in the darkened living room, looking paralyzed with shame and fear. It only now occurred to him that he had never asked her what that was about. He’d never taken a moment to find out if something was wrong. He had just started in and said some appalling things to her.

  When she had denied his mother’s accusations about his dad and Janie, he had nearly lost it. He quite simply hadn’t believed her. After all, she had seemed to expect his indictment.

  “He hasn’t been seeing my mother,” Perri had all but screamed. “She’s not seeing anybody.”

  “Of course,” Matt had whispered, gently touching her cheek. She had such smooth skin. He had scared her with that gentle stroke. But still Perri had hung on to her lies. Just as his mother had predicted she would. “You’ve got good reason to think I’m stupid enough to believe you. Don’t you, baby?” he had asked softly. “You’ve gone all the way to convince me, haven’t you?”

  Matt winced when he thought of how he had roped the chain of the gold locket around one hand and grabbed her shoulder with the other. His fingers had dug in as he had pulled her to him. Perri’s eyes had dilated in shock at his savage behavior.

  He had given her the necklace as a symbol of their secret engagement, until the time was right for a ring and a formal announcement. That night, he had struggled not to rip it from her throat. The heavy snake chain had held, but he knew the contempt in his eyes had destroyed her where she stood. Still, Perri had said nothing. She hadn’t tried to defend herself, only her mother.

  “I’m real impressed,” he’d said. “You’re good, I’ll give you that.” He had roughly pushed her away and headed out the door. Matt’s last memory of Perri was a glimpse of her through the window, trying to rub away the red marks already forming on her throat.

  From that night on, his pride had focused on his role in maintaining a respected position in the community. He had set himself apart from his father and younger brother to see that scandal didn’t touch another generation of Ransoms.

  And it was more than his relationship with Perri that hadn’t survived that night. To this day, his relationship with his father was forever altered as well. They worked together and lived on the same property, but boundary lines had been drawn by Matt’s resulting sense of betrayal.

  Matt idly watched a very fat blue jay repeatedly dive-bomb a squirrel. That brought him back to the present. It dawned on him, as he looked around, that he’d never brought Cadie out here during their brief marriage. He’d never brought his wife to a place he considered so important, so much his. Never shared it with her. He couldn’t. This spot was forever associated with memories of Perri.

  He felt the fury drain away as he accepted that he wanted her. He wanted Perri with a single-mindedness of purpose that sooner or later would leave his heart on the line. He’d just have to find a way around the fact that Perri Stone was settling back into his blood and soul with an ease he wouldn’t have thought possible.

  Matt couldn’t trust himself to take the best road for either of them. Hurting her again would most likely hurt him down to the ground. But for the life of him he couldn’t stop himself from behavior that was bound to cause them both sorrow.

  How many more times was he going to hurt Perri Stone? The same woman he had once wanted to protect for a lifetime? How many times now had he attempted deliverance, some sort of atonement? Hadn’t that been the real reason he had married Cadie?

  After Perri left, he had married a sweet, fragile girl who had needed him to take care of her. Matt laughed ruefully. Leila had secretly despised Cadie as much as she had Perri, maybe more. It had really killed Leila not to be able to call upon Cadie’s honor as a tool for manipulation. Cadie hadn’t understood honor. All she had understood was competing.

  What he hadn’t understood at the time was that he had been the prize. His o
wn willful pride hadn’t let him see that simple fact. He had been so sure life was never going to break Matt Ransom. So convinced that life would have to bend, not himself. He got back in his car and started for home.

  All Cadie had wanted was to get married to someone “better” than either of her sisters and have a baby. She had had no plan, no thought about what would happen after that. She had not been prepared for a reality beyond the point where she would reach her goal. So when she had miscarried the second time, to her it was as if she’d lost everything.

  Cadie had gotten in the car one day, shortly after being released from the hospital, and headed west. She hadn’t given herself time to heaL If Matt could have done something for her, she hadn’t let him know what it was.

  Funny about that. She had zeroed in early and locked onto his need to take care of his family, to have children to carry on for the land. Well, he had failed at all of mat and now he’d had a bellyful of women who needed someone to take care of them.

  Near Tucumcari, New Mexico, she had been killed by a drunk driver during a sudden, violent storm. Cadie had pulled over, seeking the protection of an overpass and had been plowed right into the concrete wall. Bad luck. Sorry for your loss, Ransom.

  It had left him wild, mean with grief. But Ganme had turned Matt around. She had never been afraid of his rage. Gannie was someone who could love him and would stay during the hard times. He hadn’t managed to drive her away. God, he missed her more than he did his dead wife and his mother combined. He steered the car away from the lake.

  Good thing for Perri that she bugged out when she did, he thought. No, it hadn’t been Perri’s fault. Bad luck. Sorry for your loss, you sorry fool.

  And so he had grieved, finally. Thanks to Gannie, he hadn’t had to do it alone. Matt reckoned that maybe being the one left behind at home to deal with broken dreams hadn’t changed him too much for the worse.

  If not, it was thanks to Gannie. He grinned in spite of everything. Matt didn’t think Gannie would be too proud of his behavior today. He knew he wasn’t. I’m not much impressed with your attitude, Matthew. He could just hear her now.

  He’d gone out of his way today to needle Perri. He had meant to keep it up until he had gotten a response from her other than that cool-handed, white-gloved crap. He had had to make her lose her composure, just to prove to himself she was not as immune to him as she had seemed.

  And he had been so sure he could bully her into bending to his will; into doing what had to be done. He hadn’t even thought through how she might stand and take it instead. And how that might hurt her. His reasoning had centered on how she had faded away without a fight twelve years before. Well, obviously, that was twelve years gone.

  He shouldn’t have taken it as far as he had today. He had to work with the woman. He had to cooperate with her in order to get a job done and it wasn’t going to be easy now that he had kissed her.

  She had every right to be furious with him, and hurt. He had been out of line to call her honor into question like that. Gledhill meant as much to Perri as it did to him and he knew it. And on top of that, Matt’s own fury, fueled by an ever-present despair, had caused him to screw up even that, what had been the first moment of real tenderness he had felt in a long, lonely time.

  He turned into the drive toward his home. As he drove under the wrought-iron arch, announcing to anyone passing by that this was Ransom Horse Farm, a Cadillac and a Lincoln pulled in behind him. Matt steeled himself to be cordial to the arriving owners and mentally rehearsed what he had to say about their horses.

  For the time being, thoughts of exactly how in the hell he was going to persuade Perri Stone to marry him, and marry him now, were pushed aside in favor of the business at hand.

  Three

  “I know you’re not thrilled to hear this, but I’m glad Matt talked you into getting married,” Donnie announced, as she turned off Route 66 toward old Fort Remount.

  He didn’t talk me into it. The land did,” Perri replied softly. Actually, she reflected, a sunset had been responsible for her decision. A few days after the reading of the will, she had gone to sit on Gledhill’s back porch and watch the nightly display.

  With a horse nickering softly somewhere nearby, Perri had sipped at her wine, as the jet stream had worked its way though the dazzling colors of the setting sun. As she drank in its beauty, the consequences of not marrying Matt had become very clear. If she couldn’t bring herself to do it, she would lose the colors of the sunset on the hill.

  What does one do with an inheritance? Perri mused as she stared out the car window. She didn’t kid herself. Families were often ripped to shreds by the wrong caretaker being placed in command. Aside from its outlaw status, Oklahoma had been founded on the blood and the bones of who had been allotted what.

  Perri wondered if, with this marriage, she was about to lose that part of herself she had so carefully pasted back together. Events were moving too fast to sense right action from wrong, good from bad.

  She took a deep breath and tried for honesty. Perri acknowledged what she hadn’t been able to actually come out and say—to herself, much less to him. She didn’t want the marriage to end when their six months were up. It was burdensome to admit that she still wanted a real marriage with Matt, especially when it seemed he was hell-bent on driving her away.

  Yet she would marry him, no matter how it pained her. She wouldn’t be responsible for losing Gledhill. Perri noted with mild interest that she now felt a familiar anguish. It twined itself around the practice of running away from what she loved, in order to hang onto herself.

  Now she had something outside herself, from which she wouldn’t run. But she still had to find a way to take a stand and not permit herself to be beaten down by the circumstances.

  “The land,” she whispered as they continued along the stately drive. Matt had acted as if she’d needed instruction into what it meant.

  “This life isn’t for everyone, sweetheart,” he had said on one of his daily attempts to wear her down. “It’s too hard for some. It will probably break your heart if you love it. Worse, it can break your spirit. For even if you love the land with all of your heart, blood and bones, that may not be enough.”

  She had taken a good look into her heart before answering. In that one moment, she had known she was going to stay for good. “I agree with you, Matt,” she’d answered. “Loving this place isn’t enough. Sentimentality won’t cut it. The land has to love you and want you to stay.” She had studied him for a quiet moment. “Isn’t it an act of faith on both sides?” she’d asked. And she had agreed to marry him.

  “Well, I never figured you for a June bride, much less Matt Ransom’s June bride,” Donnie’s remark broke into her thoughts. “And Lord knows, you barely squeaked under the wire. But honey, you do look stunning in that dress. It was the right choice,” she said smiling.

  The fluid, draped neckline and three-quarter-length sleeves set the tone for ease and understatement. By necessity, the ivory sheath was also cool and comfortable. This was going to be a get-in-get-out kind of wedding, with no music but that of the wind through the trees.

  Perri grimly arched an eyebrow. Her maid of honor was being just a little too sweet. “Excuse me,” she said politely, “but shopping with you for this dress was hell. I’d rather be forced to participate in the annual rattlesnake roundup than go through that again. You,” she reminded her driver, “are the one who, when I pointed out that I needed something to go with the church, said: ‘What will go with that church is calico and a stovepipe bonnet.’”

  “Well,” Donnie replied a little defensively, “what else goes with a hundred-and-something-year-old adobe church? That Givenchy suit you were trying on at the time made you look like a junior officer for the Star Fleet Federation.”

  “It’s not easy finding the appropriate dress for a marriage of convenience,” Perri said through gritted teeth.

  “I don’t know why you keep calling it that,” Donnie replied.
“So far, there’s been nothing ‘convenient’ about it.” After the last three weeks, Donnie had made it clear that remaining an old maid was looking real good.

  Perri turned her attention back to the old Army outpost as they continued toward the heart of the fort. It had been settled shortly after the Civil War, long before any settlers had arrived. The 4th Cavalry and their Indian scouts were buried in the cemetery, having died in battles mainly with the Northern Cheyenne. Perri was struck by the recent work that had gone into restoring the grasses to the way they had been over a hundred years ago. Without warning, sapphire blue water caught her eye. “Stop a second, Donnie,” she abruptly requested.

  Donnie slowed, pulled over and turned to her cousin. “Please, do not tell me that you are getting cold feet,” she declared. “I left my gun at home. It doesn’t go with this dress.”

  “No, look.” Perri’s eyes drank in the sight of a snow-white egret resting near a pond of the only clear, blue water she had seen since her arrival. “Oh, God,” she said dabbing at her eyes. “I can’t cry now, and not over a pretty little pond.”

  Donnie took a deep breath and fumbled for a tissue. “Will you please stop it I really don’t want to cry and drive.”

  Perri remained silent for some time. She looked lovingly at the elms gracefully lining the drive. Ready or not, she thought. “Okay,” she said quietly. “Let’s get it done ”

  The silence. That was the dominant feature of Fort Remount. There was no other sound but the wind. Matt stood under an elm, drinking in the sight of a forgotten piece of history. It was probably every boy’s fantasy come true. An old Indian outpost that hadn’t been altered much in over a hundred years, it was at this point almost deserted.

  Fort Remount’s church wasn’t much bigger than a postage stamp, he observed. As befitted a remount outpost, its stables had been its heart. Any religion had probably centered on a funeral service or a quick prayer for Godspeed through hostile territory.