The Bridal Promise. Virginia Dove

the new marker surrounded by funeral wreaths. Perri stared hard at the stone, before reverently covering it with the last rose. What have you gotten me into, Gannie? Rage, grief and a sort of deep, deep hurt she bad always associated with the loss of innocence, warred within her.

      No one but Gannie had known exactly how she had felt. No one but Gannie had ever learned all of the truth about the most important event in Perri’s life: when she had lost him. “Why make it so I have to work with Matt?” she pleaded softly. “You know I’ll always love him. Why put me through this kind of pain?” What plan or project could be that important?

      Dry-eyed and thoroughly bewildered at the part she now had been assigned to play, Perri stared at the fluttering rose for a long time. She had wanted a tribute that wasn’t staked in, fighting with the wind in order to stay.

      Knowing the roses would most likely be blown apart and away before she made it out of the cemetery, she got back in the car and drove on. The sight of a martin frantically tailgating a hawk kept her from dwelling upon what lay ahead. Perri didn’t look back.

      

      Perri parked in the lot adjoining the courthouse and the professional buildings. She made her appointment dead on time. The lawyer’s secretary eyed her outfit and smiled in understanding. “Go on in, Ms. Stone, please.”

      Perri took a deep breath, knocked once and opened the door. Help me through this, Gannie, please, she prayed as she entered the room.

      “Hello, John,” Perri smiled at her old friend and Gannie’s champion.

      The room’s other occupant had obviously arrived early for their appointment and now stood with his back to the door. She noted that his stance was relaxed, as if this were his turf, not hers. He didn’t turn around upon her arrival, but instead stood staring out the window at the now-defunct railroad depot which housed the Spirit Valley Historical Museum.

      Over his shoulder, Perri could clearly see the bronze plaque declaring that this spot had been the western boundary for the Run of the Unassigned Lands. At noon on April 22, 1889, the starting gun had sounded and two million acres of Indian Territory had been opened up for the Run.

      By nightfall, a tent city had sprung up on the spot where they now stood. What their ancestors had seen that day, and shortly thereafter, bore no resemblance to the view through the window over which Matt Ransom now brooded.

      She crossed to the upholstered chair the attorney indicated for her use. So. It would be a war of silence rather than reproach. Very well, Perri thought grimly.

      John Deepwater retrieved the folders from his desk and handed one to Perri. With the dignity and grace that was so much a part of him, he turned to Ransom and said: “Shall we begin, Matt?”

      Without a word, Matt took the file and his seat.

      “I can read this word for word or just use plain English. You tell me,” John announced.

      “English,” Matt said impatiently, not sparing a glance in her direction, “I’ve got a lot to do before sundown.”

      Perri calmly nodded her assent. He was going to have to work harder than that to provoke her this time.

      “Okay,” John began, “you both inherit the bulk of Gannie’s estate and share the duties of co-executors. The acreage behind the house that borders the Ransoms’ is left to Matt, up to but not including the horse barn. You split the oil royalties.” He paused on a wry smile. “I figure that will keep you two tied up in paperwork with the oil companies for at least a year and a half.

      “Perri gets the house and the surrounding acres, from the horse barn to the highway, including the graveyard.” The attorney raised his eyes, as if to check and see how they were taking the fifty-fifty split. “And you both inherit this project of hers—the ‘Donated Land’ out on the lake. The money, accounts, etc., are divided equally, aside from some bequests listed on page two.” Pages rustled as the inheritors followed along.

      “If you would like extra copies, just let me know,” he added. John’s gaze lingered on Perri. “And, of course, I will be glad to send a copy on to your attorney in New York, Perri, if you like.”

      She returned the look calmly, certain he still couldn’t reconcile in his mind the sophisticated businesswoman she had become with little Perri Stone. Something was going on. She could feel it. Only her abiding trust in John Deepwater and the certainty that Matt didn’t know any more than she did, kept her from tensing up. It was arduous enough to hear John speak about the division of Gledhill. It just about broke her heart to think of it.

      “It sounds pretty straightforward, for a piece of legal work,” Matt remarked as he rapidly flipped pages. “But you don’t seem too enthused, John. What is it?”

      “Well, there’s one hitch,” John said calmly.

      “Then let’s hear it,” Matt demanded.

      That did it. “Oh, surely, Matt and I can work it out reasonably, John.” Perri cast a reproachful glance at this stranger she had once known so well. “If there’s something Gannie wanted us to do, I’m willing to make every effort.”

      “Yes, well, darlin’,” John began easily, “what she wanted you to do was to marry Matt Ransom. If you decline, the land will be sold for condominiums.”

      Two

      

      

      Ransom wasn’t fooled. John Deepwater, Esq. was making a supreme effort not to smile as they absorbed the news. And allowing as how Deepwater’s poker face was a legend in the county, he almost pulled it off.

      It was a successful effort by Matt’s estimation. But Matt had known John too long and too well. And what he knew of the man had him practically hovering over his chair, like a hawk just waiting for the field mouse to blink.

      “Did she say why, in the blazes, she made our getting married a part of the deal?” Matt demanded in none too gentle tones. He felt Perri flinch at the word “married.” Well, he could hardly blame the woman for that.

      Deepwater took a deep breath. “She said she wanted to get your attention,” he replied calmly. One would have thought little old ladies routinely made getting married a condition for inheriting their estates.

      Well, Deepwater wasn’t the only poker player in the room. No one would have known from his stoic, emotionless expression just how deeply the memory of Perri in that back bedroom at Gledhill was weighing down Matt’s heart. Even though he was rocked by this latest development, he couldn’t pull his mind back from the way she had felt in his arms just a few hours ago.

      It was all he could do to sit there and ignore her. He couldn’t get beyond the sight of Perri standing again in Gledhill. As if she had grown into a woman right here in Spirit, instead of a world away. He swore silently at the realization that he had sorely underestimated this woman. Just as he had obviously underestimated Gannie; and once, only once, his own late mother.

      Yet again, he reminded himself of how wrong he had been to love Perri. He had shown such poor judgment in trusting her twelve years ago. For that, he no longer blamed Perri Stone. She had been too young; and Matt had repeated the same mistake after she’d gone. These days, he didn’t have much time for women and he accepted that. It was in some ways a pity, because he genuinely did enjoy them. He just had nothing to give a woman but himself, the land and a lot of hard work.

      He hadn’t managed to do the one thing he had felt was his duty: To take care of those he loved. The fact that he still, after everything, wanted a family was something never examined. It felt almost shameful to want anything. The disastrous results of his own youthful pride had left him ashamed he still cared. And now, just about the only thing he had left was his own damn pride.

      The silence stretched before Matt said quietly, “My attention or our attention?”

      “She wanted both of you to pay attention,” John clarified. “She