Now that Laurel Brown had the bit in her teeth, she prepared herself to run with the speed of a fine West Virginia racehorse. Item by item she smuggled into a large trunk: dresses; bonnets; plain things for the most part. She could work slowly, for not until spring would she dare attempt the long journey West. In the dark night hours while Ivy Ann slept and murmured in pleasant dreams, Laurel collected things that wouldn’t be missed and spread her other clothing wide to hide the gaps. She hated the secrecy. With all her heart she longed to go to her parents and say, “This is something I have to do.”
But she could not. They would forbid her to embark on such a mad escapade worthy of Ivy Ann and not her dependable self. She knew she would never go against their expressed command.
Now that she no longer paid attention to Beau, some of Ivy’s interest flagged but she hid it well. Laurel suspected pride kept her from discarding him too soon. Besides, his promising future continued to intrigue Ivy. Until she met another and brighter star she found it desirable to stay high in Beau’s esteem.
Laurel avoided any confrontations with her twin but, inevitably, Ivy Ann provoked her beyond endurance. The pretty blue dress remained Laurel’s best and she saved it for special occasions only. Once or twice Ivy had asked permission to wear it and was refused. Laurel knew how careless Ivy was with clothing. The pink birthday dress already had a tiny tear in the hem, invisibly mended by Laurel but a reminder of Ivy’s irresponsible attitude.
That same forget-me-not dress laid claim to Laurel’s affections for another reason as well. She had seen Adam Birchfield’s admiring glance when she wore it. When she got to Antelope, Laurel intended to wear that gown the first time she saw Adam.
Spring came early and Laurel rejoiced. Ivy Ann flitted between Beau and others. Then one afternoon Laurel returned from an invigorating ride that tossed her light brown hair and left her cheeks rosy. She burst into the parlor calling, “Ivy Ann! You should have come, it’s just grand out.”
A girl in a forget-me-not blue dress guiltily leaped to her feet. The china cup she held tilted and a stream of raspberry cordial cascaded down the soft folds of the dress.
“Ivy, how could you?” Laurel grabbed her twin’s shoulders and marched her toward the stairs, ignoring the startled protest from her cowed but defiant twin. This time Ivy Ann would not escape justice. Sadie had stepped into the hall, back early from an errand in town. She followed the twins upstairs, scolding all the way.
“Did you have permission to wear Laurel’s dress?” she snapped. None of her usual amiability softened her features.
“N-no.” Ivy Ann looked six instead of twenty. Mama’s wrath knew few bounds once provoked.
“The dress is ruined,” Laurel cried, her anger turned to numbness while Mama helped get the blue dress off Ivy.
Mama’s mouth buttoned itself shut. “This isn’t the last of this, girls. There’s company downstairs and you’re to go back and apologize to Mr. Worthington for this scene,” she finally ordered Ivy Ann. “Laurel, I need help in the kitchen.”
“I can’t go down.” Ivy Ann shivered. “Beau will—won’t—”
“I expect you dressed and downstairs in five minutes.” Mama snatched a simply gray dress from the wardrobe. “Wear this.”
Obviously frightened, Ivy Ann got into the dress, smoothed her hair, and followed Mama. Laurel held out the wide skirt panels and wondered if the front breadth could be removed.
“Why bother?” She wadded up the gown and threw it into a heap in the corner. “I’ll never wear the spoiled thing again, anyway. Not after it’s been ruined and made over.” The numbness passed and an exultant wave of gladness filled her. In a short time she’d be gone. Never again could Ivy Ann selfishly take and ruin what rightfully belonged to her.
Beau didn’t stay long and the girls avoided each other’s company until supper. Afterward Thomas gathered Sadie and the twins into the parlor. “Ivy Ann, you have acted abominably and I’m ashamed of you.”
Laurel couldn’t help but feel a little sorry for the drooping figure huddled in a chair that heightened her deceptively frail figure. If Daddy ever boomed at her like that!
“Go get the blue dress,” Thomas commanded Ivy Ann. “Laurel, bring down the pink birthday dress.”
She started to protest but saw the stony look in her father’s face and did what she’d been told, following thoroughly subdued Ivy Ann. Back in the parlor Thomas spread the stained gown out over his knees.
“Sadie, will the stain come out?”
“I don’t know.” She looked at the ruined gown. “It spread so far. We’ll probably have to take out a panel and make it straighter but it won’t be as pretty.” She sent a sympathizing glance toward Laurel.
Thomas took the frothy pink gown in his big hands, careful not to let their roughness mar the delicate material. “Laurel, this dress is yours from now on. Ivy Ann will wear the blue until it is worn out, once it’s been fixed.”
Mutiny sprang to Ivy’s face and protest caught in Laurel’s throat. Before either could speak, Thomas spoke in the voice he reserved for only the most portentous times. “The matter is settled and no one is to say another word about it. Laurel, put the pink dress away. Ivy, put the blue gown to soak or whatever it needs.”
Ivy Ann stumbled out, her eyes glazed with tears. Laurel took her new pink gown upstairs and reluctantly stowed it in the big trunk destined for Antelope. Could she ever wear it without remembering this awful day? She must. She had no other beautiful gown, just simple clothing and outgrown dresses.
The power of Thomas Brown’s ultimatum had an effect on both twins. Neither mentioned the dress but it hung between them like a gauzy curtain of misunderstanding and resentment. Laurel wearily counted the days until she could slip away. She watched and waited until one afternoon both parents and Ivy Ann were absent from Red Cedars. Then she hurriedly arranged for her trunk to be taken to the railway station and shipped west. If her calculations proved right, it should reach Antelope just before she arrived.
Now every day became bittersweet. Saying goodbye to the horses and rolling hills and mountains brought pain. So did the gnawing knowledge of her deception. She had sworn to secrecy the old friend who picked up her trunk and shipped it. Nothing remained except a few days that stretched like an eternity in her heart.
In the closing chapter of her life at Red Cedars, Laurel often wondered if she should forget the whole thing, confess her sins to her parents, and have her father retrieve the trunk.
The sight of Ivy Ann as blithe and selfish as ever hardened Laurel’s plans. “It isn’t like it’s forever,” she mumbled to a swaying laurel clump already showing signs of swelling buds. “Someday I’ll come back.” She firmly refused to examine Adam’s possible reaction to a madcap young woman who ran away from home and traveled West unchaperoned. Time enough to consider that on the train journey that loomed like forbidden fruit.
Before sunup that fateful spring morning Laurel’s tears fell on the carefully written notes she placed on the tall chest of drawers. After tying the strings of her plainest dark bonnet, Laurel walked the miles to Shawnee and began her journey. She kept her head down so the few curious passengers wouldn’t ask where she was going so early on a midweek workday. Once on her way, no one would know or heed her, she thought, never realizing that her lovely eyes and well-bred manner would attract attention all the way from home to the Wyoming Territory.
Laurel hadn’t known what a mess of contradictions she was until she left Red Cedars and headed West. At times her heart quailed and she fought the desire to get off at every stop. Yet part of her exulted at her new freedom, and a fierce pride in breaking away from Ivy Ann sustained her. Months earlier Adam Birchfield had opened wide his dark eyes at the changing country. Now Laurel Brown gasped and frankly stared. How ignorant she had been of anything outside her own county, her own state, her own little world!
How many rivers did they cross? How many miles of free swaying grass? How many spring freshets and sunny days gave way to the relentless clack-clack of the wheels? How many small children did she wave to, barefooted, gap-toothed urchins whose longing for adventure clearly showed on freckled faces that watched the train out of sight? Each time Laurel hugged close to her heart that she actually was on this adventure. Once she secretly pinched herself to make sure it wasn’t all a dream. Then she laughed until those around her gazed at the fresh face set off by the plain dark bonnet and traveling gown.
Cramped at times and wishing for a bath, nothing daunted Laurel for long. When she grew irritated at the lack of all the comforts she had taken for granted at home, she privately reminded herself how lucky she was, as Adam had said, to be riding a snorting iron horse all those miles instead of following in the dust of a creaking wagon.
Her first sight of the distant Rockies left her speechless. Never had she felt as insignificant as the moment her gaze beheld the jutting peaks that looked determined to pierce the bottom of heaven. Mountain after snowy mountain loomed until at last she heard the charmed call: “Rock Springs!”
She had done it.
Stiff from the long and tiring journey, Laurel stepped into a world she wouldn’t have believed existed. A world of bellowing cattle being driven in for shipping, of dusty men in boots with impossibly tall heels, of curses and the jangle of spurs.
Suddenly her joy faded. Why hadn’t she thought things through better? How on earth could she get from Rock Springs to Antelope? She grabbed her dwindling courage in both hands as she timidly queried a fellow passenger. “Where is the stage to Antelope?”
His open face showed astonishment. “Stage? There ain’t no such thing, miss.”
“Well, people go there. How?”
He scratched his head. “Blamed if I know. I never lost anything in Antelope so I never wondered.”
Laurel wanted to scream with laughter. If Ivy Ann could see this friendly but simple fellow she’d absolutely die.
She wasn’t Ivy Ann, so she’d best start wondering even if this man never had. Yet no one seemed to be able to help until a slender young man whose spotless linen and grooming made him stand out like sunflowers in a violet patch strode toward her. His high heels gave him the appearance of height but Laurel guessed him to be only a few inches taller than her own five foot six inches. Blond, cleanshaven, and thoroughly dapper, he could have stepped into any West Virginia home.
“Miss, did I hear you say you needed to go to Antelope?” Curiosity lit his glowing amber eyes.
For a second Laurel recoiled. Those eyes reminded her of the eyes of a tiger she once saw in a book—wild and dangerous. She hesitated.
“The reason I ask is that a crude wagon road has been built to haul in supplies. I’m taking a wagonload in tomorrow morning. A couple of men are going with me and one woman.”
Laurel’s joy knew no bounds. “A woman?”
The man smiled. “She’s not exactly your type, but she’s good-hearted. Storekeeper’s wife. She came out for a burying.”
Relief washed through the tired girl. “Where can I find her?”
“Boardinghouse.” The man jerked a tanned finger with its scrupulously clean nail down the street. “You can stay there overnight. One thing—”
Her heart pounded. What now?
“It’s a real bumpy ride.” White teeth gleamed in his sun-warmed face. “Where’s your baggage?” He glanced at the reticule she carried.
“I sent a trunk ahead.”
“Must be the one the agent said was bound for Antelope. I’ll see to it. It’s been here a few days but we don’t rightly have a schedule into Antelope. By the way, I’m Dan Sharpe.”
She didn’t offer her hand but she smiled. “I’m Miss Brown.” Five minutes later she followed her self-appointed protector into the parlor of the boardinghouse.
“Mrs. Greer, meet Miss Brown. She’s going to Antelope with us tomorrow.”
The double-chinned face dropped open in surprise but Mrs. Greer snapped it shut and quickly smiled. “Why, nice to meet you!” Her eyes almost closed when she smiled. Laurel appreciated the way she obviously refrained from asking why a young woman from the East would be headed toward Antelope. Instead she merely chatted after Laurel paid for her supper, breakfast, and night’s lodging. She told the girl they had about a hundred miles of the wildest Wyoming country ever to travel. They would put up at ranches that welcomed the chance to buy fresh supplies and get outside news. Mama would approve of Mrs. Greer, Laurel thought.
At last the good woman ran down. Laurel felt she must explain at least a little. “Dr. Birchfield visited our family in West Virginia,” she said. Her heart pounded in her ears. “He said Antelope needed Christian women and families and that his brother was making it a place for decent people to live.”
“Land sakes!” The moon face opposite her positively glowed. “Are you Dr. Birchfield’s young lady? Why, Miss Brown, he and that brother of his are doing more to bring common decency to Antelope than you can ever imagine.” She rushed on and mercifully spared Laurel from having to answer her question.
Dan Sharpe’s promise proved true. Much of the misnamed road to Antelope jolted Laurel until her bones ached. Mrs. Greer laughed her cushiony laugh and told the weary girl, “You need more padding, like me.”
All Laurel could do was grin feebly and hang on. When they came to places laboriously widened to accommodate the supply wagon, she gritted her teeth, closed her eyes against the canyons that plunged on both sides of them, and prayed. Only once did her sense of humor break through her misery. When Mrs. Greer cheerfully boasted how fine it was to have a road instead of having to ride horseback the whole way or be born in Antelope to get there, Laurel secretly wondered if she’d have the courage to leave it once she got there.
“We’re going to make this into a real road one of these days,” Dan Sharpe promised and lifted a tawny eyebrow. Again Laurel thought of that tiger. She sensed that like his feline counterpart, Dan Sharpe had the potential to spring.
The other two men said little but fixed their gaze on Laurel until she wished they’d fall asleep or off the wagon or something. Yet she found nothing sinister in their stares, just a frank-eyed admiration. When she smiled they turned rosy and hastily averted their gaze.
A warm welcome, hot water for washing, and a clean bed after a bounteous supper that left her ashamed of her unusual appetite did much to restore Laurel’s optimism. Besides, if Mrs. Greer could placidly knit in spite of the narrow ledges and rushing streams they crossed, the danger couldn’t be as great as Laurel feared.
An eternity later, but actually a few days, the wagon swung around the same bend that had hidden Antelope from Adam’s view months earlier. Little had changed except more people now thronged the dusty street and a few new cabins had been built. To Laurel’s fascinated, horrified gaze any expectations or romantic beliefs about the hamlet died an instant death. Antelope itself showed what a mirage her ideas had been. Here lay naked substance, a small but sprawling town at her very feet.
Mrs. Greer, sensing Laurel’s dismay, calmed the troubled girl’s whirling brain. “Look up, child.”
Laurel automatically obeyed. Jagged mountains guarded the town and offered security, something to cling to in this strange place. They felt like old friends, friendly in spite of their scarred, snow-clad surfaces. Small wonder the Psalmist had looked to the hills for the strength that cometh from God, Laurel thought.
She inhaled and felt a rush of exhilaration renew her inner self. No matter what lay ahead, or behind, no matter where she went or if she stayed, those mountains had been etched permanently into her heart, mind, and soul.
“You’ll want to see the young doctor right away,” Mrs. Greer whispered when Dan Sharpe reined in his team.
Sheer panic destroyed her serenity. “Not yet,” she said breathlessly. “I-I want to bathe and—and—”
“Of course.” Mrs. Greer chuckled then frowned. “Hmmm. The hotel, such as it is, won’t do for you. Let’s see.” Her face brightened and her double chins quivered. “The Widow Terry has a spare room since her daughter married. She’s particular about who she takes in but she’ll be glad for company.”
Laurel had little chance to protest. Mrs. Greer swept her along in the falling dusk. They rounded a corner.
‘Well, look who we’re running into.” Pleasure dripped from every word.
Laurel stared at the roughclad but unmistakable figure just ahead. Her intentions to dress up before letting Adam see her became futile. She gathered her travel-stained skirts in one hand, raced down the narrow lane off the main street, and clasped the dark-haired man’s arm. Her heart pounded more from anticipation than exertion. “Hello!”
The man turned and looked into her face. “Excuse me, miss. You must have mistaken me for someone else.”
Laurel nearly collapsed. Adam’s steady voice was denying her. She turned to stone.
“What’s all this?” Mrs. Greer hurried up, her pleasant face distorted by shadows dancing in the dusk.
“This young lady seems to feel she knows me. I’ve never seen her before in my life.” Swiftly and surely he removed Laurel’s clutching, desperate fingers.