I Love You With All My Heart
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The morning after the big dinner, Mary Louise was busy making arrangements for her wedding. Her plans had been well thought out and were now coming to fruition at a rapid rate. She would have liked to do it in a grand way but that was impossible with her limited resources.
The best she could offer was an elegant reception in the parlor of the house where she would live and be married, which was already decorated as though the happy event had happened there years before.
She sent word by wire service messenger that the event would take place on Sunday afternoon at three o’clock. It took some time to get back replies from people who weren’t around during business hours and she wanted this all organized well ahead of the actual date.
That was how she ended up calling Mrs. Bemis on Friday evening instead of waiting until Monday morning when she usually went to work. The old lady didn’t mind; she seemed glad to receive any excuse to come over for a visit since she’d heard from Mary Louise less than once a month while she was growing up.
Mary Louise had made a point not to keep too close an eye on her because the woman wasn’t much of a mother-in-law. But she knew what her grandmother meant about family and how important they were to each other. “You’ll see that my grandson is treated properly,” Mrs. Bemis said. “Just make sure he’s well fed.”
“Well fed?”
“Don’t worry about his clothes, dear. I’m sending them along with you tomorrow so your sister can dress him up nicely.”
Mary Louise laughed softly. “Thank you, Grandma. He does need new clothes.”
Mrs. Bemis sniffed loudly. “And just what do you plan to feed him? If you expect to feed your groom then you ought to know how to cook.”
“Grandma! Please!”
“I’m being serious here, young lady. You should have thought about this sooner. Now, look what it’s done to me.”
It really hadn’t hurt her any except that her stomach felt queasy every time she looked at the food in her larder. She tried to tell herself that she was still getting used to living alone again and that she would be able to manage when the day arrived but she couldn’t fool herself forever.
When Mary Louise left for the train station to pick up her groom, she told herself she was going to start planning a feast right away. And she would. Just not today or this week or even next week; there were too many other things to prepare.
First, there was the matter of a minister, which wouldn’t prove difficult. Reverend Harkness from the Methodist church in town had always been kind and gentle toward her, and although he probably never considered himself a good match for a wealthy, high-society girl like Mary Louise, neither did he seem to mind their marriage.
The only thing that concerned Mary Louise was that he might be offended by the fact that she wasn’t planning on having any children—and certainly no more weddings. “I’ve given you plenty, Reverend,” she whispered. “Don’t ask for anymore.”
He would be pleased to perform the ceremony, and so would Mrs. Bemis.
But what about a reception? There were plenty of people in town who were eager to attend, and she could invite some of the guests from New York City to meet the preacher before their own wedding days came around.
There was one other item on her agenda. After she’d read her letter from John Clay, she called Mrs. Brown, the housekeeper, to tell her not to send any more servants to New York City. She also informed the elderly lady that she would need someone to help her run the household.
The only problem was finding someone who was trustworthy enough to do both jobs without stealing anything in between. It would be hard to find anyone who could do it and not cause trouble.
That was where her maid, Maggie, would come in handy. The girl was a hard worker and knew every inch of the house. She’d also grown up watching her mistress and was familiar with everything from cleaning floors to arranging flowers.
The only drawback was that she had a temper when she was angry. That’s why Mary Louise had put her in charge of cooking and baking. But it was easy to keep her in line when she was on duty; just threaten to fire her if she caused any problems. So she was hired as her personal assistant.
When she asked Maggie for assistance in finding the right person for the job, the girl agreed to go along with her since she’d seen the way Mary Louise cared for the house. They visited three women on Saturday afternoon and found the fourth one on Sunday morning.
All of them were willing to do the job, though they seemed surprised to hear about Mary Louise’s plans. But none of them were as reliable and honest as Maggie. That was one advantage of hiring the housekeeper. No one else needed to know what was going on inside the walls unless Mary Louise wanted them to. And she liked that.
The final preparations for the event continued throughout the week. The only thing Mary Louise didn’t think much about was the fact that she was making all this fuss over a man who had broken her heart in the first place. She couldn’t let that stop her, because she still loved him and he would be leaving soon. And when he returned in four weeks, it would be for good.
She spent several nights thinking about him while lying awake in bed. She’d imagined him standing there on the porch outside her bedroom door, waiting for her to open it. One night she woke suddenly and sat upright in the dark, feeling cold sweat running down her back.
Then another thought occurred to her, an unpleasant one: What if Clay decided to leave her after all? He’d said he wasn’t coming back—but he hadn’t made any promises not to leave. It was hard enough dealing with the memory of him when they were separated. Could she stand it if he left now? Would that make her feel any better? Probably not, but maybe it would be easier to move on.
The following week went by quickly, with the last few details finalized and invitations sent out. On Thursday evening she was sitting beside John Clay at her dining table when Mrs. Brown and Maggie brought in the cake. It was decorated with white icing and yellow roses; a single candle rested in its center and glowed brightly, reflecting off the mirror behind her.
“Why candles?” he asked curiously as he watched her light the one in front of her plate. “No one is going to eat it.”
“It’s my tradition,” she answered. “This will be our last anniversary together, so I’ll burn one tonight.”
His eyebrows shot upward. “Our last anniversary!”
“Yes.”
He nodded slowly, and his eyes looked as if they were burning. “So we’re really getting married.” His voice sounded hoarse and low.
“Yes,” she told him.
She felt his hands on her waist, and then his arms slipped around her shoulders as he kissed the top of her head. “I should have known,” he said softly. Then he pulled away and glanced toward the clock on the mantel. “We’d better hurry or we won’t make it in time.”
Mary Louise was already dressed; she’d been too nervous to dress earlier and had ordered her maid to do it for her. Now the wedding gown was draped over her arm. With no time to do her hair, she simply brushed it and ran her fingers through it, hoping it would look decent.
Mrs. Brown and Maggie hurried into the room, looking quite excited, and began helping her fasten the long sleeves of the white silk dress to the corset underneath. By the time she finished with that, they’d set up tables near the fireplace for the reception.
It was a very small affair, only the two of them and three others besides themselves. But those who’d been invited had come to pay their respects; there weren’t many people in town who wouldn’t want to see Mary Louise get married.
The ceremony was simple and quick, yet romantic, and she wore the diamond engagement ring he’d given her years ago. When they walked across the threshold after exchanging vows, they paused briefly to look at each other before heading toward the parlor where they’d placed the cake.
The cake looked perfect, and the guests’ faces reflected the joy they felt at being there for Mary Louise’s wedding day. Most of those present were people from town, but there were some guests from the ranch and the schoolhouse who hadn’t known about her plans to marry Clay.
After they’d eaten the cake, everyone moved out to the porch and sat in rockers and chairs under the trees. It was a warm summer evening, the sun going down early and setting behind the distant mountains.
They talked and laughed and drank tea and lemonade until it grew late, and then they lit a fire in the fireplace to ward off the chill and turned to stories, sharing memories of old times.
The men stood and sang songs, some humorous and some serious, and one woman got up and danced a reel on the carpeted floor, waltzing with one man after another, laughing loudly and enjoying herself thoroughly.
Mary Louise and Clay remained in the same rocking chair as they listened to the music, holding hands and watching the dancers. It seemed like no matter what happened, nothing could bring them down.
After midnight Mary Louise announced that she was going to bed. Clay helped her undress, which was difficult because he held her hand so tightly. She had just stepped into her bed when her maid appeared in the doorway and handed her a note. Her heart sank as she unfolded it to read the words: “Come right away!”
***
The door swung open, and Clay stared at her. “What’s wrong?” he asked, and she saw concern in his face.
“A terrible accident,” she answered, unable to say more until she’d explained what had happened. He was dressed quickly in his best clothes and followed her downstairs. As they rode out of town in Clay’s buggy, she gazed at the stars twinkling high above, feeling an ominous sense of foreboding.
Was it possible that someone had purposely caused this? That was the way things were done back east. Could one of the ruffians from the town have come back here and murdered him?
By the time they reached his house, she knew the answer. They didn’t make any attempt to keep anyone out of the yard since they’d never expected him to return. The horses were gone, the stable doors were left wide open.
The entire ranch seemed abandoned, as though no one even lived there. She dismounted and hurried toward the front steps of his house while Clay went to look around outside first.
When he came inside and shut the door, she told him about the body lying on the grass beside the porch. He looked pale; he must have known the dead man well enough to recognize him.
“That poor boy.” Mary Louise’s voice sounded hollow as she spoke. “How awful! What’s your suspicion?”
Clay hesitated, glancing at the body. “I don’t know how he died.”
“You can tell by the condition of the body?”
He nodded and started toward the back porch. “Let’s go inside.”
It was dark when they returned to the parlor where they’d held the reception. They lit lamps and candles, and Clay took a lamp from the side table to hold close to them as they studied the body. It was still warm; death had occurred less than half an hour earlier.
Mary Louise looked at Clay. “Who is he?”
“One of the ranch hands named Joe Bannister.” Clay knelt beside the body again, studying it carefully.
She shivered, thinking of a time several years ago when Joe had nearly run down one of the boys with a team of horses. She’d been so furious over what he’d done that she’d thrown him off the wagon and threatened to whip him when they stopped.
“We’ll need to call for a doctor,” Clay said.
“Yes, we will,” she agreed, remembering all too clearly the night John had died at her home. If there was anything she hated more than murder, it was a corpse. But there was something else. Something that had been bothering her for a long time, something she wasn’t certain if she could believe or not.
The sheriff had found her in the basement of her home and told her John’s death was due to the flu. Everyone assumed it was an epidemic and that she had caught it along with him. But she’d always wondered—she’d even tried to ask the coroner at the inquest what had really happened to him.
He refused to answer questions about it, and she’d given up trying to find out. Now it seemed as though everything had come together and made sense.
“This doesn’t seem natural,” Clay said, his brow furrowing as he examined the body. “There are no bruises on the hands or head, no signs of strangulation. No bullet wound. There’s no reason to believe that he would die in such a manner unless there was foul play involved.”
“But who could do such a thing? Who would want to kill him?” She shook her head, unable to fathom it. “Whoever did this obviously thought we’d be here tonight. I wonder why he came here instead of to your office or mine?”
“Maybe it’s just as you suspect,” Clay suggested.
“Meaning?”
“That this isn’t a coincidence.”
“Why would anyone come after us?”
“If I’m right about this, then whoever did this probably thinks he killed you.”
Mary Louise gasped and felt numbness creeping into her limbs as she realized how much trouble they’d stirred up. “No one knows we’re here.”
“Except someone who works here,” he said.
“Someone could have seen us coming out of town.” She remembered what Joe had said about the two strangers. One had been tall, slender. The other is shorter, stockier. They’d ridden in different directions from the ranch. Did that mean they knew each other?
Had they worked together? If so, how would they get word to their boss without being caught? How would they know exactly which place to strike to cause the most damage?
Clay stood abruptly, knocking over the chair as he moved toward her. She watched him as he drew her into his arms. “Don’t worry. We’ll take care of it.”
She clung to him, feeling a little better, a lot safer. “You promise?”
“Yes.” He kissed her cheek and then whispered in her ear. “Now help me put Joe Bannister somewhere more comfortable.”
***
A few hours later, Mary Louise lay asleep in the bed beside Clay. When he left the room to make a quick phone call, she heard him return but stayed under the covers. It was late and she wanted to rest before getting up the next morning.
She hadn’t been able to sleep when they first arrived at the ranch house, and now she’d had a difficult time settling down and shutting down her mind to fall asleep. All sorts of thoughts had crowded in on her. About Joe Bannister.
About the body in the backyard. About their suspicions that someone might have hired someone else to kill them. Most of all, she couldn’t stop thinking about what had happened between herself and Clay. She had no idea if it had been love or lust or both. Or maybe it didn’t matter. She only knew that she felt closer to Clay now than she ever had with anyone else. And yet she still felt guilty.
After they left the sheriff’s office that afternoon, she’d gone back to her office in town and sent a telegram to Washington City announcing their visit. A day later, Clay called her office to inform her of something important that needed dealing with immediately.
He was leaving town to deal with it personally, and she was welcome to join him if she wished, but there would be no work for her to do during their stay.
They were staying at a nearby hotel. She hoped they wouldn’t be disturbed while she rested. She also hoped that if they were, it would give her a chance to talk to Clay alone. But she couldn’t get up. Not without waking him. And she wanted to talk to him before they met with the sheriff and learned any more details about Joe Bannister’s death.
Before Clay had left, she’d asked him to leave her some clothes by the bedside because she didn’t want to bother him to dress. After he left, she’d slipped into the bathrobe hanging in the bathroom and then climbed into the bed. Now that she was in here with him, she realized how close he’d come to see her in her nightgown.
And she felt embarrassed and awkward. As though she were undressing him in front of his eyes rather than him stripping off his clothing. She turned away from him, hiding behind her pillow. “What am I doing here?”
Clay’s deep voice rumbled through the room. “Getting married.”
She closed her eyes, trying not to feel so vulnerable. This man made her feel safe; this man had helped her find a sense of belonging that she never believed she’d experience again. And now he was telling her he loved her. Was she ready for such a commitment?
“I—” She cleared her throat. “We haven’t discussed marriage.”
“It seemed like it would be a good idea.”
She looked around the room at the furniture. At the bedside table where an old-fashioned lamp sat. The desk and chairs. She thought of the many times he’d brought her lunch, dinner, and coffee. Of the way he’d teased her when she’d eaten too much or drank too much.
Of all the kindnesses he’d shown her since he’d taken her in—the letters, the cards, the gifts he gave her. How long would he wait for her to change her mind? Would she even have a choice? “Why are you doing this?” she asked.
“Because we belong together.” He reached toward her, his fingertips brushing her arm as he pulled open the blanket. “Get under the covers.”
Her skin tingled as his fingers touched her bare shoulder. She shivered slightly. She should tell him how she felt, shouldn’t let him go on believing she might change her mind. But how? And why?
His touch lingered for several moments, then he withdrew his hand and moved back to the side of the bed. After a moment, he leaned down and kissed her forehead, and then said, “Now get some sleep.” Then he turned away, closing the door softly before going into the bathroom.
She lay there listening to the sounds of the bathroom: the running water, the flush of the toilet, and then the soft patter of footsteps returning to bed. His breathing settled into a steady rhythm and then he was snoring quietly.
She stared at the ceiling, wishing he’d wake up and come back to bed. If it wasn’t for that one kiss on the cheek, she would feel as though nothing had changed between them. Maybe things were better that way. For both of them.
Mary Louise woke early after a restless night. She’d slept very little, worrying over their conversation and Clay’s reaction to it. He’d been right in suggesting they marry, but now that she knew he was willing to do so, she wondered if they should. There were so many other factors she hadn’t considered when she agreed to spend the rest of her life with him.
As soon as she could slip out of bed without disturbing him, she went downstairs for breakfast. She had a hard time concentrating on eating and finally decided to excuse herself early to head home. She’d packed the day before; Clay had insisted on making sure she’d remembered everything.
She was glad now that she’d spent so much time gathering information on Joe Bannister’s business dealings. She needed all the help she could get when she faced him today.
The train ride was quiet, leaving Mary Louise to dwell on what she might say to Joe Bannister. She thought of all the possible questions she might ask and tried to imagine how the meeting would go. When they arrived in Cheyenne, she took a cab to the hotel.
“You don’t look happy,” the cabbie said as he drove down the street.
“Are you always this chipper in the morning?”
He shrugged. “Sometimes I am.”
“I bet people love that about you.”
“People?”
“Yes, people.” She grinned at him. “If I’m smiling at you in the morning, you can probably guess why.”
“No. It takes me a while to understand most women.”
She laughed, then told him she would pay him later. He waited for her to reach the hotel before turning around and driving away.
She got to the hotel just after nine o’clock. The desk clerk greeted her, but she barely glanced up from whatever paperwork she was filling out. “Can I help you?” he asked.
“Is Joe Bannister working here today?”
“I believe he is. Why do you want to speak with him?”
“I need to see him.”
“Do you have an appointment?”
“No.” She handed him a card with her name and number. “Tell him Mary Louise will be expecting him in my suite. We’ll meet there at ten o’clock.”
The clerk hesitated for only a moment before writing down the information. “Will I need to check your credentials?”
“Just call the number on the card.”
After she left, Mary Louise found a seat in the lobby and studied the front page of the newspaper, the headline reading: MISSOURI BOY KILLED IN TRIPLE SHOOTING AT OKLAHOMA CITY HOSPITAL. A small photograph of a boy with dark curly hair caught her eye as she read the story.
She couldn’t recall the last time she’d seen a picture of one of the men who had been in the saloon when she and Clay had gone into town. Had he killed those boys? What else was in his past that she didn’t know about?
She looked up as the bellboy approached the chair where she sat. He carried two large suitcases. “Mr. Bannister is waiting for you in your suite,” he told her.
She followed him through a series of hallways to the end of the building, where a long white-marble stairway led up to the top floor. As they climbed to the second level, she saw that the rooms were more spacious than she expected.
At first glance, she would think this was a hotel for wealthy travelers. But after glancing around, she could tell it was used by businessmen and politicians. They entered the suite, and he closed the door behind him. “It’s very nice,” she told him.
“You’ll like it,” he said. “We have some of the best suites in town.”
“I hope we don’t share ours.” She picked up the suitcase sitting on a table. “I’m not ready to unpack.”
“That won’t be necessary.” The bellboy pulled a key ring from inside his jacket pocket and opened a drawer in the dresser. He reached inside and withdrew a set of keys. “You have the room next to mine,” he said as he held up the silver key and pointed toward another room down the hallway. “And if you need anything, just come down to the desk.”
“Thank you.” She gave him a tip before taking the stairs to the first floor. She walked across the lobby to the elevator, which took her back to the lobby. She checked her watch. She still had several hours. She hoped Joe Bannister would arrive before noon.
If he didn’t show up by twelve-thirty, Mary Louise decided she’d return to Clay’s house. That was all she could afford to do until the meeting with Joe Bannister was over and she knew what to expect.
The End