JENNIFER WOKE HER MOTHER THE NEXT MORNING, A little bundle of roses clutched in her hand. “Do you think they’re from Daddy?” she asked her mother.
“Could be,” Regan said, not really lying but giving the child hope. She’d placed the little bouquet on her daughter’s pillow early this morning.
“They’re not from Daddy,” Jennifer said with great despair. “You put them there.” With a fling, she tossed them across the bed and ran to her own room.
It was some time before Regan could comfort her daughter, and she was close to tears herself before Jennifer quietened. If only there was some way she could get a message to Travis and tell him of Jennifer’s distress.
When they were finally dressed, both of them far from cheerful, they held hands and together prepared for what the day—and Travis—had planned for them.
The reception rooms were full of townspeople, but since there was no new excitement, often only one family member was present. Stiffly, Regan fended off their questions and kept Jennifer near her as she checked the rooms of the inn and tried to keep up a normal routine. She was quite tired of being a spectacle for everyone to stare and gawk at.
By noon nothing new had happened, and the townspeople, deflated, began to go home. The dining room was filled but not packed, and Regan noticed Margo and Farrell dining together, their heads bent, almost touching as they talked. Frowning, she wondered what the two of them could have to say to each other.
But she had no more time to think about anything else, because the noise coming from the hall was rising in tone and pitch.
Eyes skyward, she felt like crying in despair. “Now what has he done?” she muttered.
Jennifer clutched her mother’s hand. “Do you think Daddy’s come home?”
“I’m sure he’s done something,” she said, and started for the front door.
Music began to fill the front of the inn as soon as they left the dining room. The sound of horses and wagons and other sounds she’d never heard before became louder and louder.
“What is it?” Jennifer asked, eyes widening by the second.
“I have no idea,” Regan replied.
The front of the hotel was plastered with people, all frozen in their places at the six windows in front and the open door.
“Jennifer!” someone yelled, and all the people suddenly came alive.
“It’s a circus!”
“And a menagerie! I saw one in Philadelphia once.”
Jennifer’s name was repeated several times before Regan could make a place for herself and her daughter on the front porch.
Just rounding the corner by the schoolhouse were three men, their faces painted, wearing satin clothes sewn with spots and stripes of outrageous colors, and they were doing flips, tumbling, jumping over each other.
Something on their chests seemed to be letters. It took Regan a while to make out the word because of the clowns’ acrobatics.
“Jennifer,” she said. “It says Jennifer.”
Laughing, grabbing her daughter in her arms, she pointed excitedly. “It’s for you! They’re clowns, and they have Jennifer, your name, written on their suits.”
“They’re for me?”
“Yes, yes, yes! Your Daddy has sent you a whole circus, and if I know Travis, it’s no little circus. Look! Here come some men doing tricks on horses.”
More than a little stunned, Jennifer watched as three horses, beautiful, golden, long-maned horses, came galloping toward them, a man in each saddle, one standing up, another jumping in and out of the saddle, his feet barely touching the ground, and the last man’s horse seemed to be dancing. As a body, they stopped in the midst of a storm of dust and saluted Jennifer. Grinning almost enough to tear her skin, she looked at her mother.
“The circus is for me,” she said proudly, turning away to look at the other people beside her. “My Daddy sent a circus for me.”
A stilt-walker followed the clowns and equestrians, and then came a man pulling a small black bear on a chain. Everything had Jennifer’s name written on it. The music was growing louder as the band came closer to the inn.
Suddenly a hush fell over all the townspeople as around the corner came the biggest, most bizarre creature anyone had ever seen. Lumbering slowly, its massive feet making the ground quake, the animal with its trainer leading it stopped before the inn. The man unfurled a sign down the animal’s side: “Capt. John Crowinshield presents the first elephant to appear in these United States of America. And at a special request of Mr. Travis Stanford, this great beast will perform for—.”
Regan read the sign to her daughter, who was clinging tightly to her mother.
“For Jennifer!” a second sign heralded.
“What do you think of that?” Regan asked. “Daddy sent the elephant to perform just for you.”
For a moment Jennifer didn’t answer, but after a long pause she leaned toward her mother’s ear. “I don’t have to keep him, do I?” she whispered.
Regan wanted to laugh, but the more she thought of her daughter’s question and Travis’s sense of humor…. “I sincerely, truly hope not,” she said.
Thoughts of the elephant vanished as soon as it moved away, because behind the animal was a pretty little white pony covered with a blanket of white roses with “Jennifer” spelled out in red roses.
“What does it say, Mommie?” Jennifer asked with hope in her voice. “Is the pony for me?”
“It certainly is,” said a pretty blonde woman in a revealing—scandalous actually—costume of stretchy cotton. “Your Daddy found you the sweetest, gentlest horse in this state, and if you like you can ride him in the parade.”
“Could I? Please?”
“I’ll take care of her,” the woman said. “And Travis is on the grounds.”
Reluctantly, Regan relinquished her daughter and watched as the woman lifted the child into the saddle. From the side of the pony, the woman took a vest completely covered in pink roses and slipped Jennifer’s arms through it.
“Roses for me!” Jennifer yelled. “Daddy sent roses for me too.”
Regan noticed she seemed to be looking for someone, and a quick glance showed Timmie Watts hiding behind his mother’s skirts. Feeling rotten as she did it, Regan pulled the boy into Jennifer’s sight, where the child promptly stuck her tongue out at him and pelted him with a rose. To clear her guilty conscience, Regan asked if Timmie would like to walk beside Jennifer’s pony in the parade, which he accepted gladly.
Waving gaily and somewhat regally, Jennifer rode down the street toward the south end of Scarlet Springs. More men and women followed her, some walking, some on horses, all dressed outlandishly and garishly, followed by a seven-piece brass band. At the end of the parade, more clowns came, bearing signs announcing that a free performance of the circus, courtesy of Miss Jennifer Stanford, would be given in two hours.
As the last person disappeared around the curve of the road past the church, the townspeople stood silently for a few moments.
“I guess I better get on with my chores,” said one man finally.
“I wonder what a person wears to a circus?” asked a woman.
“Regan,” someone else began. “I’m sure this town’s gonna lay down and die from boredom when you leave.”
A hastily stifled giggle that could only be Brandy’s made Regan turn.
“What do you think Travis is planning now?”
“To get to me through Jennifer,” Regan replied. “At least I hope that’s all he plans. Come in, we’ve got to get busy. We’ll close the inn, put signs on the door, ‘Gone to the circus,’ and everyone can go.”
“Great idea. I’ll pack food for us and half the town, and we’ll be ready in as little time as Travis has given us.”
The two hours passed too quickly, and it seemed minutes before Regan was driving a wagon loaded with food to the circus grounds. A large enclosure had been made by stretching canvas walls around trees and posts. Long wooden benches had been set up, the ones in back taller than those in front, and already most of them were filled with townspeople. In one center section was a large space set apart by pink and orange ribbons blowing in the breeze.
“Wonder where you’re to sit?” Brandy laughed at Regan’s look of embarrassment. “Come on, it can’t be as bad as you imagine.”
The young woman in the pink tights directed both Regan and Brandy to the ribboned section and left them. Within minutes two horses, at full gallop, came tearing through the enclosure with one man on top, one leg on one horse, the other on the other horse. As he reached the end of the field, he jumped to one horse, turned both of them around, and, again at a gallop, leaped from one horse to the next.
“Oh my!” Brandy breathed.
After that, they had no time to think as the field filled with more and more horses. The horses did tricks; the men did tricks atop the horses. Two men stood on two horses, and a third man stood on the men’s shoulders as the horses ran round and round the ring.
After the equestrians left, Jennifer rode into the ring, her pony led by the lady in pink, and Jennifer was wearing an identical costume of pink bits of gold glitter here and there. As Regan watched, her stomach in her throat, the woman took the little girl’s hand and Jennifer stood in the saddle and slowly rode the pony once around the circle.
“Sit down!” Brandy commanded as Regan started after her daughter. “She can’t fall very far, and the woman’s holding her.”
At that the circus woman let go of Jennifer’s hand, and she cried, “Look at me, Mommie!” to which Regan nearly fainted, especially when Jennifer gave a jump and the lady caught her.
Jennifer took several bows as she’d obviously been taught, and all of Scarlet Springs applauded explosively. She ran to her mother, and Regan caught the child tightly.
“Was I good? Did I do it right?”
“You were splendid. You nearly scared me to death.”
Jennifer seemed pleased at that. “Wait till you see Daddy.”
It took Regan a while to calm her racing heart, and when she could speak again there was no time to ask after Travis as the elephant was once again paraded before them. The clowns did more tricks, making everyone laugh, and the little bear danced. But all the while Regan was looking for Travis.
The band had been playing constantly, and now it struck up some eerie music that made everyone quieten.
“And now, ladies and gentlemen,” bellowed a good-looking man in a red coat and shiny black boots, “we bring you a death-defying act. Our next performer will walk a tightrope—without a net. If he falls…well, you can use your own imaginations.”
“I don’t think I like this part,” Regan said, looking upward at the rope strung between two poles high above the ground. “Perhaps I should take Jennifer and leave.”
The look on Brandy’s face changed. “Maybe you should stay, Regan,” she said in a funny voice.
Following Brandy’s stare, Regan wasn’t sure of what she saw.
Travis walked into the ring, one arm raised, as if he’d always worked in a circus. The costume he wore, of black cotton, fit him like a second skin, showing the big muscles in his thighs, his small tight buttocks, and his broad, hard chest. A black cape lined in scarlet satin hung from his shoulders. With a flourish, he tossed it to a beautiful woman wearing a tiny bit of green satin. “No wonder the man drives you crazy,” Brandy said.
“What in the world is he doing out there?” Regan gasped. “Surely even Travis wouldn’t do anything so foolish as….”
She couldn’t continue as the horns blared and Travis calmly began to climb the swaying rope ladder to the tiny platform high over their heads.
“That’s my Daddy! That’s my Daddy!” Jennifer yelled, bouncing up and down on the hard wooden seat.
Regan couldn’t move. Her eyes didn’t blink, her lungs didn’t function, even her heart stopped beating as she stared at Travis on the platform above them.
At the top he again raised his arm to the crowd below, and everyone clapped loudly. There was complete silence as Travis began his slow, careful journey across the taut rope, a long pole in his hand, and it seemed an eternity before he made it to the other side.
The applause made the benches rattle, and Regan buried her face in her hands, tears of relief coming quickly. “Tell me when he’s on the ground again,” she said to Brandy.
Brandy was unusually quiet.
“Brandy?” Regan said, peeking out through her fingers. Her friend’s expression made her head swivel to look up at Travis again. He was standing on the platform, calmly looking down at her, seeming to be waiting for something. When she looked up at him, he hooked something onto the platform pole and another thing onto the wide black leather belt he wore.
“He’s going to walk it again,” Brandy whispered. “But at least he’s using a safety cable this time.”
Travis was several feet across the rope before everyone began to realize just what his “safety cable” really was. Slowly the banner began to unfold. “Regan” was the first word they saw, and after having seen the sentence hundreds of times in the last two days, they needed no one to read it for them.
“Regan!” they read as one. “Will” came next, then “You.” Each word got louder and louder, and finally, when Travis stood at the opposite platform, they reread all of it together. If they’d worked for weeks they couldn’t have orchestrated it better. “Regan, will you marry me?”
Regan’s body turned red from her toes to her hair roots and possibly spread to the tips of her hair; it certainly felt as if it did.
“What does it say, Mommie?” Jennifer demanded as everyone around her began to laugh.
Regan was afraid to speak for fear of what she might say. She absolutely refused to look at Travis, who was climbing down the rope ladder amidst great cheering, clapping, and general hilarity.
“I’m going home,” Regan finally whispered. “Please see to Jennifer,” she said, and, her head held high, she left the ribboned seat and walked in front of the crowd and out of the canvas-wrapped enclosure. People were calling things to her, but she ignored them as she started the long walk back to the inn.
Using her key, she went inside her own apartment and thought perhaps she’d never leave it again, except maybe to sneak away one night so that she would never again look at a person from Scarlet Springs.
It came as no surprise to her that propped against her pillow was a note on heavy ivory paper. It was an engraved invitation, exquisite, costly, for her to join Travis Stanford for supper that night at nine o’clock. A handwritten message was at the bottom, saying he’d pick her up at the door to her apartment at eight-forty-five.
Feeling completely defeated, she knew there was nothing else she could do but meet him. If she refused, would he perhaps have his elephant knock her door down, or maybe he’d arrive riding it? She was ready for anything even Travis could imagine.
No one bothered her all the rest of the evening, and she was grateful to whoever had arranged such a phenomenon. She’d had more than enough of everyone’s attentions.
At exactly eight-forty-five, a knock sounded on her door, and Travis stood there, dressed elegantly in a dark green coat and lighter green pants. He smiled at her and glanced at the pretty apricot silk dress she wore.
“You are prettier than ever,” he said, offering her his arm.
The moment she touched him she forgave him. She wished she could have kicked herself for doing it, but all her anger and frustration, all her desire to shoot him, left her instantly.
Swaying, she leaned against him for just a second, and as she did so he took her chin in his hand and looked into her eyes. Searching her face, his eyes holding hers, he bent and kissed her gently, sweetly. “I’ve missed you,” he whispered, before smiling and leading her toward a handsome two-seater buggy.
“Oh Travis,” was all she could manage as he settled beside her, to which he laughed in a seductive way and clicked for the horse to move.
It was a clear, warm, moonlit night, heavenly fragrant and still. It was almost as if Travis ordered just such a night. After the last few days she had no idea what she’d been expecting from him, but what she saw when he halted the buggy was not it.
A quilt of patches of velvet tied with gold threads was spread on the grass beside the stream, and set on it were many cushions of midnight blue and gold. Crystal glassware, porcelain, and delicious-smelling food were laid out, all of it surrounded by candles whose sharp glare was shrouded by globes of pink frosted glass. It was a heavenly, unreal scene.
“Travis,” she began as he lifted her from the wagon. “It’s lovely.”
He led her to the cushions and helped her into a comfortable reclining position before he opened a cold bottle of champagne. When she held a glass, he gingerly lowered himself to cushions opposite her.
“Travis, are you hurt?” she asked.
“Every damn bone in my body is hurt,” he said with half a groan. “I’ve never worked so hard in my life as I have in the last few days. I hope you don’t need any more courting.”
She gasped as she started to speak but instead filled her mouth with champagne, working at not choking. “No, I think I’ve been courted enough,” she said in all seriousness. “In fact, no one in town may ever need any more courting,” she added.
“Don’t press the issue,” he said in warning, easing his back to a better position, grimacing at the ache. “Fix me something to eat, would you?”
Orders, Regan thought, but smiled as she heaped a plate full of hot chicken, cold roast beef, chutney, and a mixture of rice and carrots. “Was it difficult to learn to walk that rope?”
“In three days it was. Another couple of days, and I could have done it without the pole.”
“You could have taken another day,” she said sweetly.
“And give you time with that snob of an Englishman, Batsford? What’s he been doing lately, anyway?”
“I’m afraid I’ve been a little too busy to notice, actually.”
At that Travis smiled smugly and leaned back against the cushions, giving his attention to his food. “I’ll be glad when you get home with me and I can get regular meals. Lately I’ve been eating with one hand, writing with the other.”
“Writing? Oh yes, I wondered if the notes had been written by you. Personally, I mean.”
“Who the hell else would ask you to marry him? Oh well,” he smiled at her look. “I didn’t mean that, and you know it. You think Jennifer liked the circus?”
“She adored it. Between the pony and the roses, I think you made her the happiest little girl alive.”
The look on Travis’s face was angelic. “I wasn’t sure I was going to be able to get that damn elephant here on time or not. That’s some animal! I’ll wager it left enough manure behind for six acres of corn. I was thinking about taking a wagonload home with me to see how good it is. Chicken manure is, of course, the best, but you can’t get much of that. Maybe this elephant—.”
He stopped because of an explosion of laughter from Regan. Narrowing his eyes at her once, he looked away, ignoring her totally.
“Oh Travis, has there ever been anyone else like you on earth?”
With a wink, he grinned at her. “I did do well on that little rope, didn’t I? Now give me some of that pie. You think Brandy’d like to come back and cook for us?”
Regan paused for a moment as she cut the pie. He’d asked her to marry him a few thousand times in the last few days, but never once face to face, and he’d never bothered to wait for an answer. And never had he said he loved her.
Handing him the pie, she spoke. “I think Brandy has other things she wants to do, but I am sure I can find a better cook than your Malvina.”
Chuckling, Travis took a bite of the pie. “She gave you a hard time, didn’t she? Our old family cook died six years ago, and Margo found Malvina for us. She never gave me any trouble, but she and Wes have had a few spats. You could have gotten rid of her, you know.”
“I shall,” she said, eyes glittering. “I look forward to doing it.”
Travis was so quiet for so long that she glanced at him. In the moonlight, surely it was a trick, but his soft eyes looked almost wet. It couldn’t be, because in essence she’d just said she was returning with him, could it?
“I am glad to hear that,” he said quietly, then smiled to himself and returned to his pie. “Wes can help you with whatever you need while I’m in the fields.”
“I think I’ll be able to manage. What’s Wes like? Does he spend most of his time in the house?”
“He’s a good sort, sometimes a little headstrong, and I have to take him down a peg or two, but in general he helps me.”
Regan tried not to smile. “You mean he voices his opinion and dares to differ with you, and you…do you come to fisticuffs?”
“See that?” Travis said defensively, pointing to a tiny scar on his chin. “My little brother gave me that, so there’s no need for you to act like he’s the injured party.”
“And will you raise your fist to me when I dare to disagree with you?” she taunted.
“You’ve disagreed with me on every word I’ve ever said, and I’ve not hit you yet. You keep giving me children like Jennifer, and you’ll always please me. Now let’s go back. I need some sleep.”
“Are you only interested in the children I give you?” she asked seriously.
Travis’s groan, from her question or his sore muscles, was his only answer. “Leave it,” he said as she started to clear away the food. “Someone will come later and pack it all.” He propelled her toward the buggy.
“How many people have you hired in the last few days? And how did you get into my safe?”
Unceremoniously, he lifted and dropped her onto the buggy seat. “A man should always have some secrets. I’ll tell you on our fiftieth wedding anniversary. We’ll gather all twelve of our children and tell them the story of the world’s most enterprising, creative, most romantic courtship ever.”
Shall we mention the elephant manure? she thought, but didn’t say anything as they drove back to town.
