CHAPTER 20.

ANNE BROUGHT UP WHETHER THEY should attend church several times in their night talks. In the end, they decided to go.

She never mentioned her real reason for pursuing the matter - she wanted to see Cord dressed up in his new suit, which he had not worn since Christmas. She felt it might be nice to let him get a good look at her all dressed up too.

Cord clearly wasn't enthused about spending time at the service, but said he didn't mind Sunday as a day of rest. He was also blunt about not wanting another mob in the yard. If Noah Reynolds thought church might pacify the town, he was willing to give it a try.

The first problem was that Anne didn't think Keeper was a suitable buggy horse. She tried to dance subtly around the point, but Cord went right the heart of the matter. "Not pretty enough for you, huh?"

"Well, he's pretty enough, but he looks like what he is, a man's saddle horse. A buggy horse should be more, more...."

"Pretty."

"No," she searched for the right word, "More elegant." She hurried on to take the sting out of her words. "Don't you have a horse that's just a little more refined or something that isn't a very good saddle horse anyway?"

At her words, Cord grew thoughtful. The next day he took Anne out in the pastures and pointed out a group of horses he said were disappointingly small and short-strided.

He had culled the mares that produced them, like Lady, from the broodmare band, but there were still half a dozen of the small, rather pretty animals on the ranch.

"Every year I think I should round them up and run them through an auction, but I hate to see them end up as meat. Would one of them do?"

"Oh, yes, that's exactly the right kind of horse."

"Choose."

She chose a black mare with very low almost matching white socks behind and named her Silverheels, Silvie for short.

"Will it take long before she can pull the buggy?"

"No, they're all already saddle broke. Week or so will make a buggy horse."

Cord began working the little mare for harness, but they didn't go to church the next Sunday after all.

Anne felt especially pretty in a dark blue dress with lighter blue trim and a rather pert hat that went well with the outfit, and Cord looked every bit as good as she had imagined in the suit. Just as they were almost ready to walk out the door, however, he suddenly gave her a hard look.

"What the h.e.l.l have you got on? You look different."

Hurt, she replied, "It's one of my best dresses for church. What don't you like about it?"

"The dress is pretty. You look strange. All squashed in and hard." A long index finger poked at her rib cage.

Indignant now, and understanding, she answered loftily, "I have a corset on. I can't go to church without wearing a proper foundation."

"You're slim enough you look just fine without that thing. What if you can't breathe and you pa.s.s out in church right in front of the whole town? They'll think I did something."

"It's not even laced tightly. I can breathe just fine. You just don't want to go. Why didn't you say so before we went to all this trouble?"

"I'm willing to go. Just take that thing off. It's probably bad for your innards to be all trussed up like that."

She had, in fact, after months of not wearing one, forgotten how miserably confining the garment was, but she wasn't going to tell him that. He was the same as every other man she'd ever known, telling her how to dress.

Furious, she said, "Forget it. I'm not going to church looking like a trollop. No corset, no church." She stormed back to the bedroom and began to change to everyday clothes.

Leaning in the doorway watching her, he drawled, "Trollops wear those things, you know, black ones - or red."

Madder than ever, she snapped, "It's certainly nice to know my husband is such an expert on trollops. Maybe you ought to start taking one to church."

She pushed past him and banged the kettle down on the stove. Maybe a cup of tea would help calm her down. Her tea was made and she was sipping it when it came to her that Cord's preference for her natural shape was not really a criticism - it might even be construed as a compliment. Perhaps she really had gotten too angry too fast.

Then it occurred to her that he was taking much longer than it would take him to change his clothes. Curious, and thinking she might even apologize, she went to take a peek in the bedroom. Gawking at the sight that met her eyes, she told herself, I should be angry. I must be angry. But it took all her strength not to double over with laughter.

He had indeed changed his clothes, and then had gone through her things and found her other corset. Made especially to go under fancy gowns, it was edged all around with lace, and bits of lace were now floating through the air as Cord very methodically used the knife he always had somewhere on him to cut the two corsets into tiny pieces.

It was certainly fortunate that the dress she had chosen for church, although fashionably draped at the back, was not bustled. Most of her wardrobe was going to need modifying before she could wear it without provoking mayhem. Anne walked further into the room, giving up the fight to stay angry. What she wanted to do was start pulling the small bits of lace out of the black hair, smooth them out of the wings of his eyebrows, sit down on the bed beside him and have him hold her and kiss her, but she knew that wasn't going to happen.

Instead she sat a careful distance from him and said, "All right, you win. I'll never even think about wearing a corset again, to church or any place else, but you remember in ten years when I'm not so slim and you start to think maybe I'd look better all trussed up, you're going to have to request me to wear one, complete with please."

Cord watched her walk out of the room and thought in ten years. I wonder if I'll even know where she is in ten years.

The next Sunday they made it to church.

Since the purpose of attending services was to pacify the townspeople, Cord decided no matter how things stood with his brothers, folks might as well be reminded that he was part of a large and clannish family. He made sure that they arrived early enough Sunday morning to join the rest of the Bennetts as they walked from Ephraim's to the church.

He was spared introductions. Anne was not only already acquainted with all the Bennetts, she had told him that Frank's wife, Judith, was one of the women her family regularly held up to her as a model of all she should be and wasn't. Even featured, still slim after bearing Frank three sons and a daughter, the pale blonde beauty usually had a serene air about her.

Cord, however, had over the years endured quite enough of the half-crazed behavior his mere presence often provoked in Judith. He had strong ideas about which woman ought to be emulating the other and had told Anne so. Anne's quick, mischievous smile at him after she greeted Judith told him she was remembering what he had to say on the subject.

Frank and Judith's three youngest children, Gil, Martin, and Beth, were properly polite, but Cord did not miss the contemplative way Luke, Frank's oldest at 21, and Ephraim's son, Pete, who was the same age, regarded Anne. They were wondering if there was a way to use her to provoke the fight they were spoiling for. And d.a.m.n them, they might be right that they now had a lever they could use to get what they wanted.

Anne looked surprised to find herself sandwiched among Bennetts in a pew close to the front of the church, but it wasn't long before she focused such an unforgiving glare on Pratt that he started stuttering. For the first time in his memory, Cord found the service entertaining.

As they left the church, Cord heard a moan, and Leona Wells enveloped his wife in a hug, weeping uncontrollably. Maybe Rob couldn't get her home yelling at her, but this just might do it.

Anne got her mother seated on one of the benches in the churchyard and he heard her say, "Now, Mother, either you stop crying right now, or I'm just going home without even talking to you. Come on now, I'm fine, get hold of yourself."

Feeling definitely better, Cord headed for the buggy, only to find Armand and Helene LeClerc petting his new buggy horse.

"Morning, Mr. LeClerc, ma'am."

"Armand, call me Armand, and my wife Helene. From a man whose wife wears one of my prettiest rings I want no mister. This is your horse, yes?"

"Yeah, Anne had a notion what kind of horse should pull a buggy, so she picked her out. Too small for a saddle horse anyway."

Armand's round cheerful face fell. "Then she's not for sale? My wife and I used to have a buggy horse. We spent many a happy hour driving around. We had no particular place to go. It was just for fun, but we could never find another one like him when he got too old. I could pay you a hundred and fifty dollars for a horse like this. We're not hors.e.m.e.n. We need something that doesn't frighten us on the ground or in the buggy."

Seeing LeClercs talking to Cord, Anne almost dragged her mother over as fast as she could and heard this last. "Why, Mr. LeClerc, Mother had exactly the same problem after our old Mollie died. You're right, Silvie would be just perfect for you."

"Silvie?"

"Her name is Silverheels, but we call her Silvie."

"Ah, such a pretty name for such a pretty mare. Well, if she's your own special horse...."

Anne winked at him. "Just a minute." She pulled Cord to one side. "Would it be awful to let them have her? They were so nice to us. I liked that bay with the narrow blaze too.

Couldn't you just work him for us? Is a hundred and fifty dollars a terrible price?"

"It's highway robbery for a horse like that."

"But it's worth it to them. She'd suit them."

"If one of the others will suit you, sell her."

Anne turned back to the elderly couple. "Mr. LeClerc."

"Armand, Armand and Helene."

"Armand, why don't you and Helene take a drive around town with Cord and make sure Silvie is really just what you want, and if she is, you can have her for a hundred and fifty dollars. There's a bay gelding I almost picked he's going to fix for me - unless you'd rather come to the ranch and choose from several."

"No, no, we can't believe you have anything nicer than this lady." Armand and Helene were still stroking the soft muzzle.

Cord drove the little mare through town with Armand, then watched as the LeClercs took turns driving. On their final swoop past the church, Helene had the reins, and the two were laughing like children.

Cord tugged his hat down lower over his eyes. Such unrestrained merriment embarra.s.sed him. Still, he drove LeClercs to their doorstep and promised to deliver the mare the next Sunday and stay for dinner. Anne would enjoy visiting with the couple again.

Anne left her mother and brother in the churchyard as he halted the horse in the street.

It appeared that Leona Wells had never stopped crying, and Rob was still glowering at them both.

On the way home Cord probed a little. "How was your mother?"

"Weepy."

"And your brother?"

"Self-righteously disapproving."

She dismissed the whole subject as unimportant. "Do you suppose in addition to Willie you should harness break another of those little horses to sell?"

"Willie?"

"Sweet William, the bay gelding."

"Mm. Maybe."

Cord wondered if he ought to warn Bob Windon that he was in danger of being put out of business soon.

EDWARD WELLS HAD BEEN ANGRY when he'd realized his daughter would not come home. When he realized she was not in Chicago as everyone supposed, his fury knew no bounds. In Edward's opinion Anne needed to spend the rest of her life living like a recluse in Chicago to mitigate the disgrace she had brought on the family.

At first, Edward, like his son, had maintained that Anne was not really married. After Rob reported the conversation over lunch with Ephraim and Martha, and after a raging confrontation with Reverend Pratt, Wells admitted to himself that his daughter was indeed married to the regrettably still alive half-breed.

Having for years been obsessed with seeing his daughter married, Edward was now obsessed with seeing her marriage ended. He would have liked to just ride out to the ranch with another mob and take her, but Edward knew that when the Double M men left town two of them had gunshot wounds. He had heard rumors about how they got those wounds. Thinking Cord could have shot two men so soon after a beating that should have killed him disturbed Edward, so he pushed the thought out of his mind. And he knew the half-breed was never going to be caught unawares like that again.

Edward only attended church on Easter and one or two other occasions a year. Rob, however, dutifully reported Anne's presence at Sunday services, and further that she had talked to Leona and to him while Cord was off selling a horse. Hearing this, Edward didn't bother concealing his smile. If his daughter was going to be in town under such circ.u.mstances, it shouldn't be too difficult to get her back under his control again shortly.

Actually, it would take Edward several weeks to find the kind of man he wanted and to make arrangements for what he wanted done.

CHAPTER 21.

ANNE WAS DELIGHTED TO FIND that behind the house near the creek there was an orchard of fruit trees. Cord's father had planted them many years ago, and they had not been tended since the family moved to the big house. Apple, peach, plum, and cherry - all were still producing to some extent. Cord helped himself to fresh fruit when it was in season but did nothing about the orchard. Anne began planning pies, cobblers, jams, and a winter supply of preserved fruit.

Even better was her discovery of a patch of wild strawberries, also a legacy of Jamie Bennett's early years on the ranch. Near the strawberries was a rectangle of ground that showed signs of long-ago cultivation, and she began to make plans for a large garden in the same spot.

Cord seemed indifferent to all these plans except for a sardonic remark that if she were going to keep hand feeding the horses she should plant the whole thing with carrots.

They were better for the horses than the sugar she filled her pockets with every morning.

Anne purchased small quant.i.ties of all the seeds she wanted and ten times more carrots than should be necessary for two people at Miles' store. The next day she eagerly searched the carriage shed, found a shovel, and started for the garden spot.

Cord caught her halfway. "What are you doing with the shovel?"

"I'm going to start digging up the garden."

"You're not digging anything."

"You can't garden without turning the ground," she said reasonably. "I'm going to take several days and do it little by little."

"No, you're not."

She thrust the shovel at him. "All right, then you do it."

"I'm not digging up anything that size with a shovel either."

Her temper took immediate flight. "Then why didn't you say so yesterday instead of acting like it was all right and letting me waste money on all those seeds? d.a.m.n you, why couldn't you just open your mouth and say something for a change?"

Humiliated to find she was sobbing by the end of this, she turned and ran for the house.