CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

 

For the next two days, Claire tried to keep busy so she wouldn’t think about the forthcoming newspaper article. She walked the fields, inspected the drying barns to see that they were ready for the tobacco harvest, and made daily trips with Lulu and Emily to visit Gunter.

The Globe came out twice weekly, on Tuesdays and Saturdays. On Saturday morning Claire drove to town early, wanting to buy a copy of the paper without Lulu and Emily being there. As she walked down the street toward the general store, she heard the whispers of people passing by and saw their covert glances. Keeping her head high, Claire marched into the store, bought a copy of the paper, and left.

Several women passing by noticed her and raised their eyebrows in silent reproach. She heard them whispering about her, their heads close together, and could only imagine what terrible things Harry Weysel had written. Claire hurried to her buggy, her stomach twisting with dread. As soon as she pulled up to the house, she hitched the horse and headed straight for her bedroom to read the newspaper in private.

The story was on page one, right in the center. Nibbling her lower lip, Claire read it quickly, then threw the paper aside. Just as she had feared, Harry Weysel had found a way to make it seem like she was running a house of ill repute.

Sickened and humiliated, Claire stared out her window. No one would want to rent from her now -- except for the kind of men the article had insinuated were already living there.

“Claire? Sweetie pie?” Lulu called from downstairs. “Are you going to town with us?”

“No, thank you,” Claire called back. “I have a headache.”

She paced her room until she saw the buggy pull away, then she left the house, walking rapidly down the slope to the river to sit and think. How would she keep her home running? Already their food supplies were low, and soon the plow horses and milk cows would need more feed. And how long could she expect the farmhands to work with no pay? Or Lulu? Where would she find the money to pay for everything?

Her heart began to race, and she started breathing rapidly. Clenching her fists, Claire forced herself to take slow, deep breaths, trying desperately to ward off her mounting hysteria. But the old terrors were always there, just at the edge of her consciousness. Fear clawed at Claire’s insides as visions of dark alleyways and sinister men spun through her mind. With an anguished cry, she pressed the heels of her hands against her temples, trying to drive out the ugly memories.

Suddenly a voice broke through the blackness of her misery -- Tyler’s voice, calling her name. The ugly visions shattered into fragments, leaving her drained and shaken. Claire hugged her knees to her chest as Tyler came striding down to the river’s edge.

 

“Here you are! No one was in the house. I was beginning to worry.”

When Claire didn’t answer, Tyler crouched down to study her face. He could tell she was terribly upset, and he had a hunch what had caused it. “You’ve seen the newspaper article?”

She nodded slowly. “I’m going to lose my home. No one will rent from me now. I still have five weeks to go before the tobacco can be harvested, and then another two while it dries. I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

“Marry me.”

Claire turned her head. “What did you say?”

The words had slipped out involuntarily. He’d imagined a much different scenario for his proposal, but now that he’d done it, he felt almost exhilarated, and most definitely relieved. He got down on one knee, took her hand and held it between his own. “Marry me, Claire.”

“That’s what I thought you said.”

Tyler brought her hand to his mouth and kissed it, gazing into her eyes. “Will you?”

Claire’s heart seemed to triple in size as she gazed at his handsome face. He wanted to marry her! It seemed incredible, and yet . . . She hesitated. His proposal was so sudden. She needed time to think about it. Lance’s betrayal had shaken her faith in her ability to make a sound decision. “I -- I don’t know,” she stammered.

“What can I say to convince you?”

She ran her hand lovingly along the side of his face. “Please understand, Tyler. I trusted Lance and he betrayed me. I don’t want that to happen again.” She got to her feet and walked several yards down the riverbank to ponder.

Tyler came up behind her and put his arms around her waist, pressing soft kisses against her neck. “Claire?” he said softly. “Did you love Lance?”

She was silent for a long time, and then she slowly shook her head. “No. I was infatuated with him.”

“Are you just infatuated with me?”

Claire sighed. She loved Tyler; there was no doubt in her mind about that. But she had just lost her fiancé. How would it look to gain another so quickly?

“What will people say about my getting engaged to another man?” she asked him. “Everyone in town thinks I’m to marry Lance this fall.”

“Do you really care what others say?” Tyler asked, his voice husky and low in her ear. “You know they would have learned about Lance eventually anyway.”

His voice, his touch, were so reassuring that Claire was tempted to throw caution to the wind. But she had to consider her sister’s welfare, too. “I don’t want vicious gossip to hurt Emily.”

“Once we’re married, what can they say? We’ll be a family. Isn’t that better for Emily? And you won’t need to run a boarding house. That should stop the gossipers dead in their tracks.”

He was right. Moreover, Emily had been the one to recognize Lance for what he was -- and Emily liked Tyler. He had proven himself a good, dependable man, a man of integrity, like her father. But was he simply coming to her rescue yet again? After all, he had never said he loved her, and she didn’t want to make the mistake she had made with Lance. She turned to face him, searching his eyes for answers. “Why do you want to marry me?”

Tyler knew that what he said now was crucial to her accepting his proposal. Yet he could not bring himself to tell her he loved her. He could say honestly that he desired her, that he needed her land, that he cared about her. But he could not say what she wanted to hear.

The important thing was to convince her to say yes before she went back to the house. If he gave her time to consider, he ran the risk of losing her.

Tyler cupped her face. “There are so many reasons,” he said, gazing intently into her eyes. “Your beautiful smile, for one, and that pert nose.” He kissed her lips, then the tip of her nose. Then, still holding her face between his hands, he kissed her eyelids. “And these astonishingly lovely eyes.” He ran his hands down her arms. “Your beauty, your gracefulness, your sweet, gentle ways.” Slowly he pulled her close, dipping his head to kiss her deeply until he could feel the rapid beat of her heart against his chest.

He broke the kiss to whisper huskily against her ear, “Your passion stirs me, Claire. I want you by my side and in my bed. We can have a good life together. Just say you’ll be my wife.”

Drugged by his words, his taste, his touch, Claire tried to pull together her scattered thoughts. She knew Tyler would be good to her and to Emily. They would be a family once more; and her future would be secure. Tyler was right. What did it matter if people thought it was too sudden? It was her life. She had to do what was best for all of them.

She leaned back to look up at him, searching his eyes. They were honest, intelligent eyes, in a face she could trust. She gave him a quick nod. “I’ll marry you.”

Tyler began to laugh, as though he was greatly relieved. Claire gasped when he suddenly threw his arms around her, nearly toppling them both over. She laughed with him, gasping again when he grabbed her face between his hands and kissed her hard. He smiled broadly, a rare sight. “This is wonderful!” he exclaimed.

Holding hands, they started back up the slope towards the house. “When shall we set the wedding date?” Claire asked.

For a brief moment, he seemed to falter. “I hadn’t thought about it.”

“How about after the harvest?” Claire’s mind began to fill with plans. “We can have a big feast and invite the farmhands and their families . . . We’ll have to start making preparations soon -- thank goodness we have Lulu! And of course Emily can be my maid of honor, and Jonas can be your best man -- or perhaps he should walk me down the aisle.” She paused to take a breath, then turned excitedly. “Won’t everyone be surprised?”

“I don’t think Emily will be surprised at all,” Tyler replied. “She’s hinted to me about our getting married on several occasions.”

“Why, that little stinker!” Claire cried.

“You have to admit, she had a great idea.” Tyler stopped to draw her close, gazing down at her with suddenly solemn brown eyes. “Let’s seal our agreement with a kiss.”

Claire closed her eyes as he bent his head toward her. She felt the warm brush of his lips against hers, felt his strong hands on her back and knew an immense sense of security. Yet something about his words bothered her. “Seal our agreement . . . .”

It almost sounded like he was making a business deal.

 

Claire made Tyler promise not to tell the family right away, but to save it for a surprise. As they sat down with Lulu, Emily, Jonas and Mrs. Parks for supper, Claire urged Lulu to tell them about their visit with Gunter.

“Well, the poor boy is doing as well as he can,” Lulu told them, “considering he’s sitting in a cold, damp cell. Isn’t that right, angel?”

Emily took a drink of milk to wash down her food. “He sends his best to everyone and he wants to know if you’ll send a wire to his family, Cee Cee.”

“Of course.” Remembering the whispers and looks she’d received the last time she went to town, Claire felt that sting of humiliation all over again. By now, they’d probably pegged her as a loose woman.

Suddenly she felt Tyler’s hand on hers under the table. Then he flashed one of his rare smiles and Claire couldn’t help but smile back.

“All right, you two!” Lulu boomed. “What’s going on? Claire, sweetie pie, ever since you came in, you’ve looked like that sly cat who swallowed a canary.”

Claire met Tyler’s gaze and raised her eyebrows questioningly. At his nod, Claire broke into a wide smile. “Tyler and I are going to be married.”

Everyone seemed to jump up at once. Lulu nearly squeezed the breath out of her, while Emily wrapped her arms around Claire’s waist and hopped up and down, squealing, “I knew it! I knew it!” Jonas gave her a fatherly peck on the cheek and Mrs. Parks reached for her hands, pressing them between her own.

“Your father is smiling down on you, dear,” the elderly woman said. “He would be delighted. Such a fine young man you’re marrying. My warmest congratulations to you both.”

“When is this momentous event to take place?” Lulu asked.

Claire glanced at Tyler. “After the harvest.”

“Let’s drink a toast to the happy couple,” Jonas proposed. “Is there any wine in the house, perchance?”

“Mrs. Parks, didn’t my father keep bottles of wine in the cold cellar?” Claire asked.

“Why, yes, dear. I believe he did keep some for special occasions.”

“If this isn’t a special occasion, nothing is!” Lulu declared. “I’ll go down there right now and see if I can find it.”

“Why don’t you let me look for it?” Tyler said, jumping up.

Jonas got up, too. “I’ll help you, Ty. Ladies, sit still and we shall return shortly.”

 

Tyler climbed down the narrow steps into the cellar, holding a lantern in front of him. Jonas followed behind. “I take it Claire was amenable to your plan?”

“You saw her tonight. Didn’t she look happy?” Tyler spotted several bottles on their sides on a high shelf and turned to hand Jonas the lantern.

“You didn’t tell her everything, did you?” Jonas asked reproachfully.

Tyler grasped one bottle by its neck and brought it down with a shower of dust. He brushed off the bottle and looked at it. “This will do.” He glanced at his assistant and saw the accusation in his eyes. “No, I didn’t, Jonas.”

“For God’s sake, Ty -- you’re the one who’s insisting on certain conditions. Don’t you think it’s only fair to tell her about those conditions before she agrees to the marriage?”

“It’s too late to worry about that now, isn’t it?” Tyler snapped.

“No one outside the family knows. She can still decline without too much embarrassment.”

Tyler gave him a cold look. “It took some doing to convince her that marrying me was the best thing for her. I wasn’t about to jeopardize that. Besides, she had just read the article in the paper and she was very upset. It wasn’t the right time to begin naming my conditions. What would you have done?”

“Been truthful.”

“You weren’t there.” Tyler paused. “I just didn’t have the heart.” What he couldn’t admit was that he also didn’t have the courage. He had been too afraid Claire would say no.

“So when are you going to tell her?”

Tyler started up the steps. “Soon. Very soon.”

 

Claire, Emily, Mrs. Parks and Lulu made the trip to town on Sunday morning to attend church. Lulu went reluctantly, and only to appease Emily, or so she said. But her enthusiasm as she gustily sang the hymns hinted otherwise.

They sat in a pew at the rear of the sanctuary where Claire felt there would be fewer eyes watching her. She tried to concentrate on the sermon, but her thoughts kept drifting back to Tyler and his surprising proposal. As happy as she was, had she responded too hastily? She had made a mental list of all the reasons she should marry Tyler, and it far outweighed the reasons she shouldn’t. In fact, there were only two reasons she was hesitant to marry him. Unfortunately, they were big ones.

Did she trust her own judgment? Claire couldn’t help but doubt herself. And in all the reasons he had given for wanting to marry her, he had never said the one that she most wanted to hear: that he loved her.

Yet there were so many benefits to marrying Tyler, was love truly the most important reason for getting married? He cared about her; he desired her; he would take care of Emily. Wouldn’t that be enough?

After the service, they stopped to visit Gunter.

“’Morning, ladies,” Wilbur Simons said, his gaze fixed on Claire. “Come to see the prisoner?”

“He’s got a name,” Lulu insisted. “Why don’t you use it?”

“What do you have there?” he asked.

“A buttermilk cake,” Lulu said defiantly. “Want to poke your fat fingers into it to see if I hid a hacksaw in the middle?”

Giving her a disgruntled look, the sheriff nodded to the deputy to open the door. As the women filed past him, he said to Claire. “How are you getting along, Cee Cee? I’m sure you weren’t pleased about that story in the paper.”

Claire stopped to let Emily go around her. “It was a very unfair article.”

“Like I mentioned before,” he said in a lowered voice, “what you need is a man around the house to take care of you.”

“And she’s going to have one real soon,” Emily said smugly, standing inside the doorway. “She’s engaged to Tyler McCane.”

Simons stared at Claire, his confusion evident. “But you already have a fiancé.”

Claire felt a blush color her cheeks. “Mr. Logan and I have parted ways, Sheriff.”

For a long moment, Simons said nothing, but Claire saw his hands curl into fists at his sides. She glanced at his face and was stunned by the look of outrage in his eyes.

He nodded toward the door. “You’d better get in and see the prisoner. You’ve only got ten minutes.”

Until that moment, Claire hadn’t taken his courting seriously. Now she realized that he must have been hoping all along that she wouldn’t marry Lance so he could ask her himself. She was immensely grateful Tyler had asked her first. She wouldn’t have wanted to hurt the sheriff’s feelings.

 

Wilbur Simons grumbled all the way to Reginald Boothe’s house. People were staring at him, but he didn’t care. He had every right to be angry. He had distrusted that McCane right from the beginning; he knew a scoundrel when he saw one. To think his Cee Cee was planning to marry that womanizing riverboat gambler!

He pounded on the front door of the elegant brick home. “Mr. Boothe?”

After a few minutes, the door opened and Boothe stepped outside, pulling it shut behind him. He wore a dressing robe, odd for that time of day.

“What is it, Sheriff?” Boothe said sharply. “I’m rather busy at the moment.”

“Mr. Boothe, that scoundrel McCane is gonna marry Cee Cee!”

The banker looked bored. “Well, you guessed that might happen.”

Simons balled his hands into fists, shifting restlessly on his feet. “I don’t want it to happen -- that’s the problem.”

Boothe leaned against the door jamb and folded his arms across his chest. “And just what is it you want me to do about it?”

“Can’t you talk to McCane? He’ll listen to you.”

“And tell him what? That he should step aside for you? Would you do the same if the situation were reversed?”

Wilbur Simons blinked rapidly. “Well, no, I guess not.”

“I’ve told you before, I don’t care who marries the little bitch as long as we get her land.”

Simons was perplexed. Hadn’t he always helped Boothe out, even when his conscience told him he shouldn’t? He couldn’t understand why the banker wasn’t willing to do the same for him. “But, Mr. Boothe,” he began.

Boothe stepped into the house. “Sheriff, I am not interested in your love life or lack of it. Now you’ll have to excuse me. I have company.” With that, he shut the door in Simons’ face.

Stunned, Simons lumbered toward his buggy. Boothe and McCane were both just using Cee Cee to get what they wanted. McCane didn’t care about her. But Wilbur cared. He’d known Cee Cee most of her life, and he wasn’t going to let her be hurt any more than she already had been. He knew he had hurt her himself, in an effort to please Boothe, but this was where he put his foot down. He couldn’t let Cee Cee sacrifice herself for that good-for-nothing gambler. It was time to tell her the truth about the man she had agreed to marry.