Talk turned to the upcoming Hartville Christmas Eve Ball, an annual event held at the Hartville Hotel. Folks from as far away as San Antonio came for the party, filling the town, celebrating the season. Bowie’s mother had begun the tradition years ago, using the proceeds from the event to fund various charitable functions in and around Hartville. This year, the funds would go toward the Confederate Widows and Orphans Fund, with Miss Spanner overseeing the decorations and details as only she could.
“I don’t think I’ll be doing any dancing.” Emma shifted in her chair, pressing her hand to her lower back. “I might be home with a newborn by that time. But just in case, I ordered a new dress from Miss Spanner’s.”
Jane nodded. “Crockett insisted I get a new dress. He even went with me to pick out the fabric.”
The boys spoke of previous Christmas Eve dances. Bowie had hated the dances as a youngster, mostly because he was so tall and lanky and ungraceful, tripping over his feet. By the time he’d grown into his legs and arms, he was a passable dancer, thanks to his mother’s patient teaching. He’d never be as smooth as Hays or Austin, but he could get by without disgracing himself. Not that he’d ever go to a town dance again.
Elise came to stand beside Bowie’s chair. She bent down and whispered in his ear, “A Christmas Eve Ball? It sounds like so much fun, and a good cause. Should I order a new dress? Will you need a new suit?”
He shook his head. “Get a dress if you want, but don’t get new clothes for me. I won’t be going.” When was she going to realize that he didn’t go to balls or church or shopping? He felt bad having to refuse her, but nobody would thank her for dragging his ugly carcass to a town function. “Someone from the family will get you there and back.”
Her lips tightened, and she blinked. Tears? He felt lower than an earthworm’s belly, but confound it, she knew better than to think he’d go parading into town. He looked away from the hurt in her eyes.
“What are you going to wear, Elise?” Annie called from across the room. “There’s still time to get a gown made. That shade of blue is lovely on you, but I think you would look fabulous in red.”
Elise left his side and returned to her chair by the fire. “I won’t be attending the ball, but I hope you all have a lovely time and raise lots of money for the cause.” She held up her hands as protests began. “I’ve decided to steer clear of Hartville. I find I much prefer to keep to the ranch.”
Though they tried to get her to change her mind, she remained adamant. Bowie said nothing, but he simmered. Even Pa, who woke in the midst of the debate, couldn’t budge her from the notion of staying home from the biggest social event of the year.
The minute all this company was gone, Bowie would get to the bottom of things.
Elise knew she was in for a battle, judging from the hard look in Bowie’s eye, but she welcomed it. She was heartily sick of pretending she didn’t love him, blast his stubborn hide. She was tired of being alone in her marriage. And she was tired of her husband acting as if he were some sort of pariah, even in his own family. As she said good night to their guests, she braced for the conflict.
Returning to the parlor, she found him leaning against the mantel, arms crossed, a scowl on his face.
“What’s the idea of not going to the Christmas Eve Ball? And not going into Hartville? You have no reason to cut yourself off from town. You should go to the dance.” His eye burned hotly, his face hard as he fired the first salvo.
“So should you,” she shot back. “It’s perfectly ridiculous that you hide out here, and I’m tired of it. Do you know how difficult it is for me to go to town alone? Or to sit in church by myself? As for a town dance … with all your family in attendance except you? Do you have any idea how humiliating that would be for me to be the only Hart woman there without her husband?” Folding her arms, she glared at him. “Well, I’m not going to do it any longer. If you won’t go to town, then neither will I.”
He paused, as if he hadn’t thought of how difficult it might be for her to show up to social engagements alone. “You have my whole family at these shindigs. You aren’t alone.”
“Oh, right. And just which couple should I attach myself to? I have no desire to play gooseberry to your brothers and their wives.”
“What do you want from me? I told you from the beginning that I didn’t go into town. Now you’re mad because I won’t go?” Bowie paced the area in front of the fireplace, eating up the distance with his long strides. Frustration flowed from every line of his body, his muscles taut under the crisp white shirt she’d pressed so carefully earlier that day. But she was frustrated, too, and she found it all spilling out.
“When you first came into the factory and saved me from a miserable existence, I thought you were the answer to my prayers, that I had finally found someone who would care for me and that I could share a life with, but you don’t want that, do you? You’ve walled yourself up in your fortress of pride and shame. You’ve cut yourself off from life, your family, and most of all, you’ve cut yourself off from me.”