"I have a headache," Fern said. "It doesn't go very well with the music and loud talking." She managed to get into the buggy. She settled herself and untied the reins.

"I'd appreciate it if you'd untie my horse," Fern said.

"You'd better avoid Texas Street," the man advised. "Those drunks get one look at you, and they won't be satisfied with dance hall girls anymore."

"Thank you," Fern managed to say. As soon as she backed the buggy into the street and turned toward the house, her tears started to flow once again.

Fern was grateful there was no light burning when she reached Mrs. Abbott's. She didn't want to see anyone, to have to explain anything. She hurried to her room and lighted her lamp. She nearly tore the dress to pieces in her haste to rid herself of the symbol of her shattered dreams. If she hadn't put on that dress, she wouldn't have changed her mind about being able to many Madison. If she hadn't put on that dress, she wouldn't have destroyed her image forever. If she hadn't put on that dress, she wouldn't have broken her heart.

Cursing her own stupidity, Fern quickly changed into her familiar pants and shirt. She wanted to blame Madison and Samantha. She wanted to blame Rose and George and Hen and Mrs. Abbott and everybody else who had come into her life since that fateful day when Madison stepped off the train.

But she knew she had no one to blame but herself. No one had made her forget her common sense and think that someone like Madison could love her more than Samantha. No one had made her think she could be anything but what she'd always been, a misfit. No one had made her cast aside the only life she had known to reach for something only a fool would think she could have. Madison might have held the carrot in front of her, but she was the one who had opened her mouth to take a bite.

Fern had just shoved her feet into her boots when Mrs. Abbott entered the room, a robe thrown around her shoulders, her hair up in papers.

"What are you doing home so . . . What have you done to this dress?" she practically shrieked. "It's ruined."

"Good," Fern said. "If I had time, I'd burn it."

"What happened? Where is Mr. Madison?"

"I don't know and I don't care," Fern said, grabbing as many of her belongings as she could carry in her arms. "But you can tell him for me, if he should remember me long enough to ask, that I'll have his buggy back first thing in the morning."

"But where are you going?"

"To the farm where I belong. I should never have left. It just goes to show what happens when you try to be something you aren't."

"I don't understand what you're talking about," Mrs. Abbott complained.

"It doesn't matter. For the first time in weeks, I do understand. Please thank Rose for everything she tried to do for me."

"You're bound to see her yourself."

"I doubt it." Fern put her hat on her head and turned for the door. "Thank you, too. You've been very kind."

"Well, I don't know about that," Mrs. Abbott demurred, "but I do know Mrs. Randolph is going to be very upset. She's extremely fond of you." "I'm fond of her, too," Fern said, "but some things just aren't meant to be."

Tears almost choked Fern as she ran for the door. She refused to cry in front of Mrs. Abbott or anybody else. This was her own private folly. She would get over it in her own private way.

The ride to the farm was very lonely. She felt none of the friendliness she always felt when she was out on the prairie, none of the freedom of spirit she had always enjoyed so much. Whether she wanted to admit it or not, she had left her heart in Abilene, and she wasn't at all sure she would ever get it back again.

Madison couldn't find Fern anywhere. Outside of missing her, he had so many things he wanted to tell her. Samantha had offered to smooth Fern's path into Boston society. In fact, she had offered to let Fern live with her and Freddy until she felt comfortable enough to run a house of her own. For a woman of Fern's temperament, trying to enter Boston society was bound to be troublesome and upsetting. Madison wanted to do everything he could to make it as easy as possible for her.

"If you're looking for the young lady," Sam Belton said to him, "she was asking after you a short while ago. I told her I had seen you enter the hallway."

"When did she return?"

"I don't believe she has."

Madison couldn't imagine what Fern was doing sitting in one of the parlors all by herself. Maybe she wasn't by herself. Madison felt a pang of jealousy. He didn't like to think of her sitting alone with anyone, even Freddy. Especially Freddy. Madison's stride lengthened as he impatiently pushed his way through the crowd.

He didn't acknowledge several people who spoke to him. He didn't even hear them. His entire concentration was on finding Fern.

She wasn't in any of the rooms. They were all empty. Where could she have gone? There was nowhere else. The noise of the women in the kitchen caught his ear. Maybe they would know of some room he didn't. He pushed through the door.

"I'm looking for one of the guests who came this way," he said, staring at the women who stared back just as forthrightly. "She's not in the sitting rooms. Is there anywhere else she might have gone?"

"A pretty girl wearing a bright yellow dress?"

"You know she had to be pretty," another woman said, giving her friend a nudge. "A man like him ain't going to be hanging around no ugly woman."

Madison tried not to smile.

"Very pretty, and in a very yellow dress," he replied.

"She came running through here about twenty minutes ago. She struck out across the yard. I couldn't see where she went after that."

Madison began to feel uneasy. Something was wrong. The last time he saw Fern she seemed to be having fun. He wouldn't have left her if he hadn't thought she was enjoying herself.

There was no sign of Fern outside, but he didn't expect there would be. She wouldn't leave the house to go wandering about the garden. Something had happened to upset her. Not finding him, she had run away. He didn't stop to wonder why she didn't go to Rose. He had become so used to being her comfort, to being at her side nearly all the time, he didn't consider she would go to anyone else.

Why should she? He was the man who loved her. He was the man she was going to marry. He was the man who wanted to take her back to Boston and give her everything money could buy. He was the man who was going to spend the rest of his life trying to make up for the awful things the last twenty years had done to her. It was only natural that she come to him.

Why hadn't she?

When he noticed his buggy was gone, he really started to worry.

"She didn't say why she left," Mrs. Abbott told him. "She didn't say anything at all. She just tore in here, grabbed as many of her things as she could carry, and headed out again. But not until after she had ruined that dress. Do what I will, she'll never be able to wear it again."

The minute Madison saw the dress, he knew that Fern was more than upset. She was mad.

He got mad as well. He didn't know who had upset her, he had no idea what had been said or done, but he would see that somebody thought twice before doing anything to Fern again. It was about time people learned she was no longer without a man willing to stand up for her. In fact, he was quite willing to tackle just about anybody on her behalf.

"She did tell me to tell you she would send the buggy back in the morning," Mrs. Abbott said.

"Don't worry. I'm going out to the farm now. I'll bring it back myself. And I'll bring Fern back as well."

The drive had done nothing to calm Fern. Quite the contrary. By the time she had rubbed down the horse and put him in a stall, she was even more agitated. Everything reminded her of Madison. His horse, his buggy, his barn, his house. She was surrounded by the man. She felt suffocated by him.

But she had nowhere else to go, at least not tonight. Maybe she could sell the farm, maybe she could burn the house and barn. It sounded like a stupidly wasteful thing to do, but right now she was ready to do anything that would purge her life of his influence. She didn't think she could go on breathing when the very air was tainted by the things he had given her.

As she stalked across the yard to the house, she realized that the only things she had which hadn't come from Madison were the clothes on her back, eleven chickens, four pigs, and one cow. Even the herd, thanks to his jokes about the young bulls, was tainted by his touch.

She entered the house and slammed the door behind her. She could remember when she'd thought his buying this house was the most wonderful thing anybody had ever done for her. Now it felt like a prison.

She couldn't stay here. At least not tonight. She would spend the night at the Connor place. Madison might follow her, but he'd never think to look there.

Fern wanted to kick herself for the thrill of hope that surged through her at the thought of Madison following her. He wouldn't. She was certain of that, but it wouldn't do any good if he did. He might have thought he really loved herpeople had done crazier things beforebut Samantha's showing up had restored his common sense. He had been confused again when he saw her in the dress. Maybe it was the shock of finding she really was pretty.

Whatever, he had gotten over his shock in time to realize he loved Samantha. That was okay. Fern didn't want a man who didn't love her. She certainly wasn't going to be seen mooning over a man who loved somebody else. Fern grabbed up a blanket and pillow and tossed them next to the door. She was looking for some sheets when she heard the sound of hoofbeats.

She froze. p.i.s.s and vinegar! Madison had followed her.

Chapter Twenty-Three.

Fern couldn't believe how her heart started to beat twice as fast, how her tired body suddenly seemed to have enough energy for two people.

"All he has to do is show his face, and you can't wait to fall all over him," she said aloud, disgusted with herself. "What do you want to do, go to Boston and be his mistress while he marries Samantha Bruce?"

That thought put an end to her vacillation. She could tolerate many things but not sharing Madison or playing second fiddle to another woman. She threw down the sheets she had just picked up, strode to the door, and flung it open.

Madison rode into the yard at a gallop, his mount lathered from the exertion of the five-mile trip. Fern felt a tug at her heart. He was still wearing the clothes he wore to the party. He looked gorgeous. Even after his perfidy, it caused her a severe wrench to have to tell herself she must send him back to town.

"Don't bother getting down," she called out as Madison rode into the yard. "There's nothing you have to say that I want to hear."

Madison flung himself from his horse. He didn't take time to tie it to the hitching post. He ran to Fern and took her in his arms. "Are you all right?" he asked. "What happened? Why did you leave? Why didn't you come to me?" Worry had etched deep lines in his forehead.

Don't let him fool you. You've fallen for his line too many times before. If you don't stop now, you'll go on doing it forever.

"No, I'm not all right," Fern declared, attempting to take a firm hold on her treacherous heart. "I've got a terrible headache, and I'm certain I'll have blisters on my feet tomorrow. I've got a few other parts that ache as well, but they're going to get better. I'm never going to let myself feel this bad again, not ever."

"Are you sick?" Madison asked. "You shouldn't have gone off by yourself. You should have told Rose or Mrs. Abbott."

"I'm through letting people take care of me," Fern said, wrenching herself from his embrace. "I should have known from the start it would only cause trouble."

"I thought you liked Rose."

Fern wished she had the courage to hit him. It was bad enough he should follow her. A man with decent feelings would just let things end. He certainly wouldn't stand here acting as if she were his only concern in the world. He ought to be back with Samantha and the McCoys. That was where he belonged, with the beautiful, rich, and sophisticated. If he had an ounce of kindness left, he would forget her and let her go back to her cows. "Did somebody say something to upset you? When I saw your dress practically ripped to shreds, I was afraid something terrible had happened."

That was it. She couldn't stand it any longer. She hit him in the chest. Not as hard as she wanted to, but hard enough to make his eyes pop.

"How long are you going to keep up this pretense?" Fern demanded.

"What pretense?" Madison asked.

Fern s.n.a.t.c.hed up her pillow and threw it at him. He batted it away effortlessly.

"Pretending you still care. Pretending you still love me."

She threw her blanket at him. It didn't hurt either, but it fell open and got twisted around his arms. Madison tossed the blanket aside angrily.

"What the h.e.l.l are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about all the lies you've been telling me during the last week, all the lies I was fool enough to believe."

She threw a boot at him and missed, but she nicked him with the second one. That made her feel so much better she looked around for something else to throw. But there was virtually nothing in the house. She hadn't replaced anything destroyed by the tornado because she had been staying with Mrs. Abbott. In frustration, she reached for her pile of clothes.

"What happened to you? Less than an hour ago we were talking about getting married. Now you're throwing things at me."

"Don't you mention the word marriage to me, you deceiving snake," Fern said, throwing her sheepskin vest at him. "What were you doing, trying to keep yourself amused while you were exiled to Kansas?"

Madison fought his way through the flurry of shirts and pants that filled the air. He gripped her wrists. ''What do you mean calling me a deceiver? I haven't so much as looked at another woman since I met you."

Terrible anger gave Fern the strength to break loose from Madison's grip. She reached for the cup she had used for coffee. It crashed against the wall behind Madison.

"I mean Samantha Bruce, you scalawag," she said, frantically looking for something else. She found her spurs. One missed, but the other hit him in the middle with a satisfying thud. "I can't believe you thought I'd be dumb enough, or desperate enough, to let you marry her and keep me on the side."

"Are you crazy?" Madison demanded, dodging the coffee pot. "I don't want to marry Samantha. I want to marry you."

"That's what you said to me, but what were you saying to her?" She threw a plate at him. It was a clean miss.

"What are you talking about? I spent practically the whole evening watching you dance with one cowboy after another."

"I mean when you were kissing Samantha in the back parlor, you mangy louse."

She threw another cup. This time she almost got him.

"I wasn't kissing anybody."

"Don't lie to me, Madison Randolph. I saw you with my own eyes. You were kissing her. You said you loved her. And she said she'd do anything for you."

"Oh, that," Madison said, as though she had just told him she was thinking about changing the kitchen curtains. "That was nothing."

"It may be nothing to you, you conscienceless lecher, but it sure as h.e.l.l is something to me." She picked up the chair and raised it over her head to toss at him.

That was a mistake. Madison had taken her actions pretty much in stride up until now. Now he closed in on her before she could throw it and wrenched it from her grasp. Then before she could pick up a second chair, he caught her and pinned her in the corner.

"Before you break everything in this house, you're going to explain what you're talking about."

He held her close, her arms pinned to her sides, her body pressed against him. In her haste to leave Mrs. Abbott's house, Fern hadn't put on her chemise. She could feel her b.r.e.a.s.t.s pressed against him. It was almost as though she didn't have any clothes on. It frightened her, but it also excited her. The feel of her nipples brushing against the stiffness of his starched shirt sent unexpected tendrils of excitement arcing along her nerve endings. It almost took her mind off her quarrel.

Almost, but not quite.

"What's there to explain? Surely you understand what kissing a woman means."

"It depends on the woman."

Fern struggled to free herself, but Madison's grip was like steel. She tried to hit him, but he kept her arms clamped against her sides.

Gone was the anxiety caused by Madison's presence. She could only think of hurting him as much as he had hurt her.

"I don't know what Miss Bruce thinks on the subject, and I don't care what they do in Boston, but here in Kansas we don't expect a man swearing love to one woman and asking her to be his wife to be caught kissing his former sweetheart in the parlor minutes later. No doubt that makes us practically savages, but it's the way things are." "You're really upset about that, aren't you? You really think I love Samantha."