Part 35 (1/2)
”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 s.h.i.+rt. 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.