facedown on the
pillow, shaking with helpless rage. She had never felt so trapped,
so frightened.
Even when she was a child and her parents had
been killed, she had always known that there was someone to take
care of her—Wade and Tommy, or Uncle Edward and Aunt Katharine. Now
she had no one. No one cared. No one would do a thing to prevent
her from being condemned to this marriage. No one would lift a
finger to save her from being tied for the rest of her life to John
Breen.
No one except herself.
Still trembling, Juliana sat up and dashed
the tears from her eyes. She began desperately to plan.
5
Juliana was watched closely the next days.
She was not permitted to ride—all the horses were needed by the
hands, John Breen told her. She was kept from going to town—the
buggy was in need of repair, according to her fiancé. And she was
not allowed to spend time alone—Aunt Katharine or Victoria
continually followed her about and remained glued to her side for
hours, chattering about the wedding plans as if nothing were amiss,
as if she were the happiest, most eager bride-to-be in the
world.
Juliana could scarcely bear to look at them.
Aunt Katharine blithely ignored Juliana’s grim silence, and rattled
on about how fortunate her niece was to be marrying a man as
handsome and wealthy as John Breen. Victoria pouted that she hoped
everyone would make this much of a fuss when
she
decided
to marry—quite ignoring the fact that Juliana had decided nothing
whatever for herself. And John Breen set in motion a series of
plans for the wedding and honeymoon, complete with extravagant
festivities, oblivious of his intended’s stony lack of interest in
all that went on about her. To Juliana’s relief, he made no more
effort to be alone with her, apparently deciding it best not to
pressure her further before the wedding. Juliana guessed he
expected that by the time the vows were said and the wedding ring
placed upon her finger she would face up to the reality of the
situation and accept her position as his wife.
Well, we’ll just see about that
,
Juliana thought the evening before the wedding as she stood at her
window gazing out at the gold and lavender sunset spreading
delicately across the sky.
The mountaintops glowed a soft, misty purple
beneath the shimmering light. She stared at the distant peaks with
a mingling of yearning and trepidation. Tomorrow this time she
would be traveling by stagecoach somewhere in those mountains.
Whatever dangers might await her, they would have to be faced and
conquered, for they would be preferable, far preferable, to the
certainty of the fate awaiting her here. Somehow she would get to
Tombstone and try to track down where Wade and Tommy had gone. John
Breen would set out after her, she knew, but if she could get away
quickly, he would give up before long, and she would be free to
search for her brothers, to start a new life with them.
If only Gil were still here
, Juliana
reflected as she turned away from the window and began to pace the
room, scowling when her eye fell upon the ivory brocade wedding
gown draped across the bed, a dreamy vision whipped up by Denver’s
best seamstress for tomorrow’s occasion. Gil might have been able
to help her, she thought wistfully, but he had left Twin Oaks the
day Breen had driven him off, and there had been no sign of him
since. She hoped he was all right. At least he was free of Twin
Oaks, she thought with a sigh. She only hoped she would be so
lucky.
Somehow she would have to pull off this plan
of hers by herself.
She took a deep breath, trying to calm the
fears somersaulting inside her stomach. There was a quick knock on
the door of her room, and before Juliana could speak, Victoria
stepped inside.
“Mama asked me to tell you that supper is
being served and everyone is waiting for you downstairs,” Victoria
blurted out, frowning at her cousin’s state of déshabille . Juliana’s slender figure was
enticingly draped in a pink satin
pillow, shaking with helpless rage. She had never felt so trapped,
so frightened.
Even when she was a child and her parents had
been killed, she had always known that there was someone to take
care of her—Wade and Tommy, or Uncle Edward and Aunt Katharine. Now
she had no one. No one cared. No one would do a thing to prevent
her from being condemned to this marriage. No one would lift a
finger to save her from being tied for the rest of her life to John
Breen.
No one except herself.
Still trembling, Juliana sat up and dashed
the tears from her eyes. She began desperately to plan.
5
Juliana was watched closely the next days.
She was not permitted to ride—all the horses were needed by the
hands, John Breen told her. She was kept from going to town—the
buggy was in need of repair, according to her fiancé. And she was
not allowed to spend time alone—Aunt Katharine or Victoria
continually followed her about and remained glued to her side for
hours, chattering about the wedding plans as if nothing were amiss,
as if she were the happiest, most eager bride-to-be in the
world.
Juliana could scarcely bear to look at them.
Aunt Katharine blithely ignored Juliana’s grim silence, and rattled
on about how fortunate her niece was to be marrying a man as
handsome and wealthy as John Breen. Victoria pouted that she hoped
everyone would make this much of a fuss when
she
decided
to marry—quite ignoring the fact that Juliana had decided nothing
whatever for herself. And John Breen set in motion a series of
plans for the wedding and honeymoon, complete with extravagant
festivities, oblivious of his intended’s stony lack of interest in
all that went on about her. To Juliana’s relief, he made no more
effort to be alone with her, apparently deciding it best not to
pressure her further before the wedding. Juliana guessed he
expected that by the time the vows were said and the wedding ring
placed upon her finger she would face up to the reality of the
situation and accept her position as his wife.
Well, we’ll just see about that
,
Juliana thought the evening before the wedding as she stood at her
window gazing out at the gold and lavender sunset spreading
delicately across the sky.
The mountaintops glowed a soft, misty purple
beneath the shimmering light. She stared at the distant peaks with
a mingling of yearning and trepidation. Tomorrow this time she
would be traveling by stagecoach somewhere in those mountains.
Whatever dangers might await her, they would have to be faced and
conquered, for they would be preferable, far preferable, to the
certainty of the fate awaiting her here. Somehow she would get to
Tombstone and try to track down where Wade and Tommy had gone. John
Breen would set out after her, she knew, but if she could get away
quickly, he would give up before long, and she would be free to
search for her brothers, to start a new life with them.
If only Gil were still here
, Juliana
reflected as she turned away from the window and began to pace the
room, scowling when her eye fell upon the ivory brocade wedding
gown draped across the bed, a dreamy vision whipped up by Denver’s
best seamstress for tomorrow’s occasion. Gil might have been able
to help her, she thought wistfully, but he had left Twin Oaks the
day Breen had driven him off, and there had been no sign of him
since. She hoped he was all right. At least he was free of Twin
Oaks, she thought with a sigh. She only hoped she would be so
lucky.
Somehow she would have to pull off this plan
of hers by herself.
She took a deep breath, trying to calm the
fears somersaulting inside her stomach. There was a quick knock on
the door of her room, and before Juliana could speak, Victoria
stepped inside.
“Mama asked me to tell you that supper is
being served and everyone is waiting for you downstairs,” Victoria
blurted out, frowning at her cousin’s state of déshabille . Juliana’s slender figure was
enticingly draped in a pink satin
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