From the moment Ivy Ann Brown discovered Laurel had fled, everything about Red Cedars changed. Sometimes she wondered how she could have been so blind. “Shallow, foolish, vain!” she accused herself. “Why didn’t I see it sooner, before my flirting and hatefulness drove Laurel away?”
Days and nights of soul-searching agony thinned Ivy to string bean proportions and left dark smudges beneath her deep brown eyes. Gradually the beaux who had once delighted her and fallen in droves for her charms deserted, lured away by jollier and more interesting girls. She cared little. Even when Beauregard Worthington’s calls became fewer and fewer “due to the press of business” she only shrugged.
“Why didn’t I know how much I loved Laurel and how good she was until she left?” Ivey wailed to her parents.
For perhaps the first time, they offered no excuses, no solace. “Most of the time we let the real treasures we have slip away and don’t realize their worth,” Thomas Brown sternly told his repentant daughter. He softened at the acute misery in her face. “We can’t undo the past but we can use it to shape the future.”
Sadie also suffered. Shocked by the defiance and secretiveness of her tractable Laurel, she haunted the front porch whenever anyone rode in from Shawnee. Laurel’s first letter brought a certain uneasy peace.
“Thank God she’s all right!” Thomas swept Sadie into a rare public embrace.
“She’s happy, too,” Sadie decided out loud once the letter had been read and reread. “This Mrs. Greer and Mrs. Terry sound like wonderful Christian women. Besides, Dr. Birchfield will look after her.”
Thomas drew shaggy eyebrows together. “It doesn’t excuse her going as she did.”
“Would you have allowed her to go if she had asked?” Ivy Ann posed, not in her usual pert manner but seriously.
“Of course not!” Thomas faced west and a slow smile lightened his craggy features. “I didn’t think she had it in her.”
Every letter brought glowing reports of the beauties of the Wyoming Territory. Each message invited, not in words, but with the challenges Laurel had found, coupled with her experiences, the memory of Adam Birchfield’s strong views on the need for godly men and women to help settle the West.
Ivy Ann could see the effect of the long family discussions, first on her father, then on her mother, and last of all on herself. Inspired by her complete confession to God asking for His forgiveness, she found herself tantalized and drawn by the vastness of the unknown frontier that had swallowed Laurel. She also missed her twin with every fiber of her being. Strange, she had always believed Laurel relied on her.
Not one of the three Browns could remember when the tone of the conversation changed from, “If we should ever” to “When we get to Wyoming….”
“Shall we write and tell Laurel?” became the hotly debated question. Thomas favored a blunt admission that through business connections he’d arranged to buy a ranch near Antelope and that Red Cedars had been eagerly snatched up by some of Beauregard Worthington’s contacts.
Ivy Ann definitely wanted to surprise her twin. She had begun and discarded a dozen letters to tell Laurel how much she had changed. None came close to what lay in her heart. “I need to look into her eyes so she will know it is true,” she told her parents.
Sadie remained undecided about telling Laurel but sang louder than ever while she did the hundreds of things necessary to turn over the property to its new owners. Many a tear dampened her work apron at the thought of leaving Black-eyed Susan, Gentian, and their families. Yet her sturdy pioneer spirit rose up and sustained her. Soon she would be a part of the new flood of expansion sweeping America, and soon she would see Laurel.
At last Ivy Ann persuaded her mother to side with her and Thomas reluctantly gave in. Laurel would not be told.
“Just think of her face when we knock on Mrs. Terry’s door and ask for Miss Brown.” Ivy Ann gleefully clapped her hands. Sincere and repentant she might be, but her unquenchable spirit of fun had bounced back like an India rubber ball.
A flurry of farewell parties with a dozen suitors wondering how they could temporarily have thought Ivy Ann dull swept by until the perfect June morning when the Browns turned their backs on Red Cedars and faced west.
The long train journey offered time to hear all the details of the new life that lay ahead. Thomas looked ten years younger, so fired was he with enthusiasm and vigor. “The ranch we’re getting is actually part of one of the largest spreads near Antelope.”
Ivy hid a smile at the word spread. Ever since they started talking of going West, western colloquialisms, courtesy of Mr. Hardwick, sprinkled her father’s conversation.
“Mr. Hardwick, who owns the Lazy H, had such terrible losses due to the unusually cold winter he’s been forced to sell or go under,” said Thomas as he took writing materials from his bag and drew squiggly letters. “This is the Lazy H cattle and horse brand. See? The H is lying down on the job.”
“What will our brand be?” Ivy Ann peered at the paper with interest.
“Hardwick suggested we use the Double B.” Thomas drew another figure ᗺ Β. “It will be easy to brand over the Lazy Η because it only needs a few curves to change.”
Sadie looked worried. “I’m not sure I like a purchase where we don’t know the seller. What if he cheats us or doesn’t furnish as many cattle as the contract calls for? We put most of what we got from Red Cedars into this.”
“My dear, this Hardwick is so well thought of and trusted on the range that every person our agent talked with flared up at the idea he’d ever cheat anyone. Most of them just do business with a handshake and Hardwick’s never been known to go back on his word.” When Sadie didn’t look totally convinced, Thomas continued. “Besides, it isn’t like we’re going into partnership. The sections of range we just bought are separated from the Lazy H by a parcel of land owned by someone else. That’s one reason Hardwick let some of his holdings go.” A frown flickered. “I kind of wish we were snuggled up to the Lazy H but, according to my man, whoever owns the in-between strip of land has never done anything with it except collect fees for grazing of Lazy H cattle.”
Any time interest in the changing scenery lagged, the fascinating subject of the new Double B rose to be explored.
State after state surrendered to the steady clack-clack of the train’s churning wheels until as Adam and then Laurel had done the Browns gazed in awe at the Rocky Mountains and knew their destination could not be far off. Like the two travelers before them, the clear distance deceived Thomas, Sadie, and Ivy Ann.
Once Ivy cried out, “Look! Those must be the pronghorns Adam told us about.” Spellbound, the easterners watched a small band standing with raised heads and staring intently at the train. A heartbeat later they moved into single file and fled faster than anything the Browns had ever seen.
“They can reach speeds of up to sixty miles an hour,” a fellow passenger told the enthralled travelers.
Ivy Ann pressed her nose to the train window until the last of the graceful animals disappeared from sight. Would the rest of the Wyoming Territory prove as new and intriguing? The answer would come soon enough.
Adam’s declaration of love for a girl he believed to be safely back home in West Virginia changed Laurel’s troubles to disaster. All the sweetness of being loved by the finest man she had ever known turned sour because of her deception. The sword of Damocles that legend said once hung by a single hair paled next to the weight pressing down on Laurel.
Tell him, her conscience ordered night and day.
I can’t, her weaker side protested. What if he despises me and I lose his love? Yet even the weak side had no answer to conscience’s retort.
How is waiting going to help? You have to confess sometime.
So she stitched seams and hemmed gowns, smocked and tucked, and tried to ease her conscience and aching heart that leaped each time she saw Adam. How hard was the way of a deceiver! Basically honest, Laurel hated the role she played yet feared what Adam would say. His integrity that first won her respect then love worked against her now.
Just a few more days, she promised herself, then the days stretched into weeks. Early summer came in all its Wyoming glory and Laurel still had not confessed.
While she struggled, so did Adam to his own amazement. He had been so sure of himself about Laurel and his feelings he confidently expected every worry would slide away regarding the future. Nothing prepared him for the tumult that continued to rage inside him, stilled only by Antelope’s demands on him for skill and comfort.
“I never dreamed Ivy Ann could change so,” he told his horse a dozen times. “All the wonderful qualities I saw in Laurel are magnified in Ivy since she came!” As he raised his face toward the blue heavens where fleecy clouds played tag, he prayed, “Dear God, can a man be in love with two women at the same time?”
His question remained unanswered and a startling happening drove it and other things from Adam’s mind. News came that the Rock Springs bank had been robbed. Antelope perked up its ears, especially when the amazing truth came out: No masked men had appeared. No dynamite or the usual paraphernalia of such robberies had been used. Someone, evidently in broad daylight, had simply marched in without being observed and helped himself. Or some wily, unauthorized person had a key and had come at night.
Rumors flew like cawing crows. Good citizens shook their heads and wondered. If anyone had information, it stayed locked behind securely fastened lips.
Following the robbery ranchers reported missing cattle and horses. Not in large numbers but enough that at first the range riders simply felt they’d drifted into draws. Horses known for their speed and endurance mysteriously escaped from corrals.
Hardwick reached the point of near explosion. “Here I’ve sold a piece of land and a stated number of animals in good faith,” he said as he scratched his grizzled head. “Doc, it beats me how these dirty skunks can sneak in, cut out the best, and get away without someone seein’ them.” He held his muscular arm steady while Adam cleansed a nasty cut and dressed it.
“You say you’ve sold part of the Lazy H?”
“Had to.” The terse reply said everything. “A few more hard winters like this one and I’d be out of ranching.” He fumbled with the button on his sleeve.
“Who bought it?”
“Some feller from back—”
“Hey, Doc!” The door opened and a freckle-faced gap-toothed boy burst in. “You’re needed at the Pronghorn. Right now. There’s been a fight an’ a bunch of guys are about dead!” He slammed back out.
Adam grabbed his medical bag and overtook the excited youngster halfway to the saloon. Sometimes he felt like refusing to patch up men who fought for entertainment or because they wouldn’t take anything off anyone else. He shook his head and lengthened his stride. Never in his life had he turned his back on need and he couldn’t start now, no matter how disgusted he might be.
When he stepped inside the saloon, a strangely silent crowd parted like the Red Sea and fell back to make a path for him.
“Who’s hurt worst?” He rolled up his sleeves and started to work, relieved that no one was “about dead” after all. When he had set a broken arm, staunched the blood from a head wound, and tended to various cuts and bruises he faced the motley group. “How many more of you are going to wind up like these men? Or like those? He pointed out the open window toward the little cemetery at the end of town. “Don’t any of you have brains enough to know that brawling settles absolutely nothing?”
“Sounds like we’ve got two preachers in this town instead of just one,” a lazy voice drawled.
Adam whipped around, furious at the contemptuous comment. Dan Sharpe lounged in a chair tipped back against the wall with the two front legs in the air. Voices nervously tittered but the laughter Adam might have expected never came.
“I’m no preacher but I’m fed up with this kind of thing.” His deadly quiet voice stilled the shuffle of feet that had greeted his outburst.
The chair came down in a hurry. Dan bounded up like a tiger, and his mirthless grin made the resemblance even more striking. Every curve of his tensed body showed all he needed to spring was a single word from Adam. “Trying to make Antelope a better place for—the ladies?”
His meaning was absolutely clear. Everyone in Antelope knew Dan Sharpe had fallen for Ivy Ann Brown like a second-rate rider. Even those who admired Dan muttered an inaudible protest that spurred Adam into action. Black rage erased his hatred of violence. In two quick steps he reached Dan, snatched a handful of deerskin shirt, and threw the shorter man back in his chair.
Faster than hail Dan reached for the gun hanging low on his right hip. Before it cleared the holster a mighty kick crumpled him into stomach-clutching misery and disabled him. In silence Adam Birchfield turned his back and strode out of the Pronghorn. A moment later he came back in. “He may have a broke rib or two. If he does, haul him down to my office.”
For a time Antelope held its breath and waited. How would Dan respond? No one knew, not even his most trusted henchmen. His ribs had not been broken. Neither had he suffered permanent damage except to his ego. Three days later he stepped from the saloon just as Adam and Nat came out of the Greers’ general store.
“Hold on there!” he called, and rapidly walked down the dusty street.
Adam and Nat froze. Unarmed, they could only watch Dan advance. Faces popped into windows. Men, women, and children on the street scurried for shelter from the inevitable fight. Nat involuntarily started to step forward and shield his brother but an iron hand restrained him as Adam’s hoarse voice ordered, “No, this is my fight.”
To the town’s astonishment, Dan stopped a few feet from the brothers, took off his hat with his left hand and held out his right. His clear voice reached everyone around. “Sorry, Birchfield. I was way out of line. No hard feelings?”
A little warning bell inside Adam told him not to trust Dan Sharpe any farther than he could see. Yet he had no choice but to accept the proffered hand. Someone coughed and a few cheered. Others looked disappointed at being cheated of a fight. But Dan clapped his hat back on his head, grinned a snowy grin, and marched into the Silver saloon.
Adam overheard one old-timer mutter, “That devil! Knows even the worst of us won’t stand for some things. Now he walks off like a hero.” A stream of dark brown tobacco juice pinged against a rock in the road. “Hope Doc’s smart enough not to be fooled by that coyote in the chicken coop.” He came over to Adam, walking with the uneven, bowlegged gait of a man more used to straddling a horse than hoofing it. “Sonny, don’t you never turn your back on Dan Sharpe.” He went on down the street before Adam could answer.
“I’m afraid you’ve made an enemy,” Nat told him soberly.
Adam shrugged. “It won’t be the last, I’m sure.” He unseeingly gazed off down the street then looked up at the mountains. “Like you told me before I came, it’s a rough land out here.”
“You haven’t changed your mind about staying?” Nat asked.
“No, but I’ve sure changed my mind about myself.” Adam’s clear laugh rang out. “I always felt I could be in control of any situation. Now I know that underneath the surface lies more anger than I ever dreamed possible!”
Before long the incident had slipped into the graveyard of stale news. Nat and Adam continued with their busy lives. Dan took advantage of the summer months to widen and better the rough wagon track into Antelope. Laurel gathered her courage to speak a dozen times and finally promised herself that the next time Adam came to see her she would trust in his love and tell him the truth. She secretly rejoiced when that time of reckoning was postponed due to a rash of illnesses and minor accidents.
One golden afternoon loud shouts brought her and Mrs. Terry to their cabin door. “Dan Sharpe’s back,” rang in the streets.
Widow Terry’s face lightened. “Ivy Ann, go see if he brought back our bolts of cloth, will you?”
Glad to escape her own thoughts, Laurel lightly ran over to the main street. She saw Adam hastening toward the general store and she waved. He raised his hand, smiled, and froze when a familiar figure in a blue dress alit from Dan Sharpe’s wagon.
She straightened her hat, and looked inquiringly around her. Suddenly she caught sight of the blue-clad statue whose hand remained upraised. “Laurel!” Ivy Ann gathered her skirts around her and sped down the street. “Surprise! We’re here for good!”
Laurel watched her twin come as if in a dream. Surely it couldn’t be happening, just when she had promised God to make things right with Adam, no matter what the cost.
Yet it had happened. She had waited too long.