Tariana dropped to the ground under a large tree, and she watched Michael and Frances enter first, lost in one another’s gaze. Shortly after, Jamie led the new girl into the center, and the two of them danced. Her constant giggling irritated Tariana, but Jamie appeared to like it. He smiled, and nodded attentively at the woman in his arms. Tariana could not take her eyes off them, and a sense of grief replaced the anger.
Mr. Hawkery from the local store stood above her, but she didn’t even try to stand. When his hand stretched out with a letter firmly gripped between his fingers, she glanced up at him.
“For me?”
“Haven’t seen you in town of late, and when your sister mailed the first letter to St. Louis on your behalf, she asked that if anything came back from that address, that I please pass it only to herself or you.”
“Evelyn said that?”
“Her words. So, I held it back, much to my better sense, when your father came for mail. I ran to get it, seeing you were here today. I know your family has experienced a difficult week. The wife and I have been praying.”
“That’s very kind of you, sir.”
He roared with laughter, the stern lines on his face replaced with cheerfulness. “No – what you did for that brood of youngsters just now was kind. My Tally had a wonderful time.” He tipped his hat. “Good day to you, Miss Gracin.”
The letter was from The Lovelorn. She’d forgotten to check the newspaper that week. Its arrival was bad timing since Michael was no longer an issue.
She tore it open. There was a brief explanation at the top that cases not included in the newspaper column were sometimes answered regardless, and hers fell into that category.
Tariana straightened her back against the tree, thinking that perhaps The Lovelorn’s wisdom might help with her next stab at romance – if that was even in the cards. The note read:
Dear Obsessed in Oregon,
You rightly signed your letter, and I am encouraged that deep down, you know the folly of your pursuit. You must face your madness, confess your disloyalty, and turn your attention toward the birds that roost nearby who are obviously unaware of your fickle and treacherous heart. Love is found in many forms. Surely, there is one who climbs high enough to perch on your lofty pedestal. I agree you are, indeed, a fraud who has been tricked by a master con-artist. Don’t be surprised to awaken only and discover it is you who have sabotaged your chance at love.
Yours Truly: The Lovelorn.
Tariana lifted her eyes from the paper, and the first thing she observed was not Michael – her first infatuation and the instigator of this desperate call for help – but Jamie in the arms of another woman. The Lovelorn had been correct in her concluding comment – Tariana had conned herself, damaging any chance of finding happiness with the patient man God had planted next door. Jamie had been there the entire time and she’d missed it.
Chapter 8
Jamie’s head was spinning, and not just from twirling the Texan party-girl around in circles. Her voice pierced his ears with high intensity, and on occasion, she snorted when she laughed. On the brighter side, he had to admit, that he enjoyed her tales of life on the ranch back home and her refreshing perspective of Oregon City, the land west of the mountains that he called home.
The once-level ground beneath them had started to furrow from their four feet kicking up the dust for so long. The fiddler in the band was feeling energetic, and he played more fast tunes than slow – not that Jamie wanted slow either. Angelica tended to cling to his neck, causing him all levels of discomfort, including breaking out in a cold sweat. Her perfume assaulted his nostrils, and if it weren’t for the possibility of making Tariana jealous, he’d pawn the Texan off on the eager line of gents watching their every move.
He finally pushed back from her embrace and said, “I’m ready for a cold drink. How about you?”
“That’s a marvellous idea, James.” He hated how she persisted in calling him by his Christian name. James was his father. He liked the way Jamie sounded outdoorsy and relaxed, which was more like his personality.
“Wish you’d call me Jamie. All the folks hereabouts do.”
“My parents would be appalled. Nicknames are for the common riff-raff.”
“Who do you think you’ve been dancing with all afternoon?”
“You might have a bit of riff-raff in you, but you are far from common,” she said, fanning her flushed face. Jamie wondered if girls could muster up that redness on a whim.
He scooped some punch into a tumbler with a ladle and handed her the drink. “How long are you visiting your cousin, Miss Scinch?”
“Not sure. Mama wanted me to see another part of this great country before I settled into marital bliss with Clifford J. Parksview, and then I’m guaranteed wealth and prestige for the rest of my life.” Her voice cracked, and Jamie wondered if her future plans were enough to provide her with the happiness she craved.
The prospect of the Texas-tart belonging to someone else sent waves of relief through Jamie.
“You’re promised to another?” Jamie asked.
“I suppose,” she said as she shimmied closer, “but
