Tomorrow's Garden

by Amanda Cabot

  “C’mon, Bruckner. We’ve got a long ride ahead of us.”

  22

  It felt good to be home. Lawrence untied the bedroll and slung his canteen over his shoulder. After almost a week away, he needed a bath and a shave. A hot meal and a long sleep could wait, but cleanliness was an essential preparation for what he most wanted: a visit to Harriet.

  “You look happy.” Emerging from the parsonage, Sterling followed him up the steps to the mayor’s house. “That must mean you caught your man.”

  “I did.” Lawrence grinned at his friend when he reached the second floor landing. “It felt good to see Bruckner behind bars, but it felt even better to come back here.” Lawrence wondered whether Sterling would understand. He wasn’t certain he did, at least not completely. All he knew was that while he’d been gone, something had shifted deep inside him. “It may sound strange, but for the first time in my life, I feel as if I’m where I’m supposed to be.”

  While Lawrence deposited his traveling gear in one corner of his room and searched for a clean shirt, Sterling sank onto the room’s sole chair. Though unpadded and straight-backed, it was more comfortable than the floor. “Does this mean you’re not going to leave Ladreville?”

  “It does. You know, I didn’t want to come here, but now I want to stay. I plan to tell Clay and the others that I’ll sign as long a contract as they want.”

  Raising his eyebrow, Sterling asked, “Would a certain schoolteacher be the reason?”

  There was little point in dissembling. If matters proceeded the way he hoped they would, it wouldn’t be long before the grapevine learned of his interest. “She just might be.”

  Sterling leaned forward, his grin fading. “You may not want my advice, but if you haven’t already done it, you ought to make your intentions known. Ever since the fire, Karl Friedrich has become a daily visitor at the Kirk residence. The grapevine says he’s trying to convince Harriet to turn the school over to Olga Kaltheimer so she can marry him now.”

  “I see.” In all likelihood, the fire had jolted Karl, causing him to turn what had appeared to be a desultory courtship into an active one.

  “Do you? Ruth won’t say much, but I get the impression that Karl’s a pretty persistent fellow. He’s a nice enough man, but I can’t say that I want him as a brother-in-law.”

  Lawrence, who had been looking for a collar, stopped and stared at Sterling, shocked by the minister’s final words. “Brother-in-law? Unless I’m mistaken, there’s only one way Karl could become your brother-in-law. When did this happen? I leave the town for less than a week, and you decide you’re ready for marriage.”

  “You know it isn’t a new idea. I haven’t said anything to Ruth yet, because I’m waiting until after Easter,” Sterling explained, “but after that, I plan to ask permission to court her.”

  Lawrence rose and strode to the window, trying to phrase his words carefully. “Six months ago I never would have pictured quiet Ruth as a parson’s wife.” He was still having trouble forming the image of Ruth on her own and Harriet without her.

  “Ruth has changed, and so have I.” Sterling’s words brought Lawrence back to the present. “Now I can’t imagine my life without her.”

  “I know what you mean.”

  “Then take my advice. Don’t wait.”

  Lawrence didn’t, though Zach had sent a note, asking him to come to the Lazy B as soon as he could. Even if the rustlers had struck again, Harriet was more important than Zach. Lawrence needed to see her, to relieve her fears about Bruckner and—most importantly—to tell her what was in his heart. Unfortunately, when he reached the Kirk house, Karl was already there.

  “Lawrence!” As she opened the door and ushered him into the parlor, Lawrence noticed two things: Harriet’s hands were no longer bandaged, and her eyes sparkled. Though there might have been other causes, he wanted to believe the sparkle was due to happiness, just as he wanted to believe she hadn’t given Karl that brilliant smile.

  “When did you get back?” she asked, her voice still husky from the smoke.

  “About an hour ago.” His hair was damp, but he no longer smelled like a dusty horse, and his boots would not track mud onto her rug.

  “You look tired.”

  From the corner of his eye, Lawrence saw Karl frown. Though the man had greeted him with a curt nod, he clearly did not appreciate Harriet talking to him. Too bad. Karl had had the week Lawrence was gone to court Harriet or whatever it was he was doing here. Lawrence had no intention of leaving simply because another man was present.

  He gave Harriet a broad smile, then favored Ruth with another. Though Ruth was sitting in the corner, obviously serving as Harriet’s chaperone, it would be rude to ignore her. “It was a long trip, but it was successful.”

  “You found Thomas?” Harriet seated herself and gestured Lawrence toward the chair he had occupied each time he’d visited. A stray domino announced that the boys had been playing on the rug at one point, but there was no other sign of the younger Kirks, leaving Lawrence to wonder where they’d gone.

  He stretched his legs in front of him, trying to relax. When he’d envisioned this scene, Karl had not been part of it. “Yes,” he said. “Bruckner admitted he set the fire.” Lawrence wouldn’t repeat the other things the man had said. Most of them were unfit for human ears. Harriet’s lips tightened, and she pushed her spectacles back on her nose in a gesture Lawrence had come to realize meant she was nervous, but she said nothing.

  Karl was not so reticent. “The scoundrel!” He pounded his fist into his palm. “I hope you’ve got him locked up.”

  “I do indeed.” Lawrence addressed his next words to Harriet. “He’s in the Fortune jail.”

  “Fortune?” Karl’s voice rose a decibel. “Why did you take him there? The crime was committed in Ladreville. He should stand trial here. We should decide how he’s punished.”

  Karl’s obvious anger confirmed the wisdom of not bringing Thomas Bruckner back to Ladreville. Fanned by fury, the townspeople might not have waited for the circuit judge to arrive but might have taken Bruckner’s fate into their own hands. “I’m the sheriff,” Lawrence said calmly. “The town pays me to make decisions.”

  “You’re supposed to make good decisions.” Karl’s expression left no doubt that he did not believe Lawrence had fulfilled that obligation. “We’ll see what the others have to say about this.” Though his next words were muttered, Lawrence distinguished “contract.” Karl, it appeared, was threatening to terminate Lawrence’s employment.

  Harriet leaned forward, clasping her hands. “I think it was a wise decision,” she said firmly. Knowing Harriet as he did, Lawrence was certain it was not by chance that she moved her hands again, as if to remind Karl that she was the one who had been injured. “Thank you, Lawrence.” She accompanied her words with a smile. “Sheriff Faulkner will ensure that justice is done.”

  “Harrumph!” His disapproval evident, Karl rose and took a step toward the front door. “Coming, Sheriff Wood?” Though phrased as a question, it sounded like a command. “Miss Kirk is fatigued.”

  Rising when Harriet did, Lawrence shook his head. He had no intention of being rushed, simply because Karl Friedrich was ready to leave. “I have some business to discuss with Harriet.” Despite his intentions, it was evident that this was not the time to speak of affairs of the heart. Karl had spoiled that, but Lawrence wouldn’t let him ruin the whole day.

  Harriet closed the front door behind Karl and returned to the parlor. “I worried about you while you were gone,” she said when she and Lawrence were once again seated. This time, he noted, she chose the settee, only a foot away from his chair. She had not been this close to Karl. Surely that was a good sign, as were the words she had spoken. If she worried, it must be because she cared.

  “I was never in any danger,” Lawrence assured her, adding, “unless you count Bruckner’s tongue. It packs as much venom as a rattler.”

  Harriet’s eyes clouded. “When I first knew
him, Thomas was a sweet talker. He changed.”

  Sterling had said he and Ruth had changed. That might be, but Lawrence doubted that Thomas Bruckner had ever been anything but a despicable creature. “Perhaps, or perhaps he simply showed his true colors. It seems he got in over his head with gambling debts and owes a pile of money to a man named Herb Allen.” Lawrence watched Harriet carefully as he said, “I don’t understand it, but he thought you could bail him out.”

  “Me?” Her surprise wasn’t feigned. Lawrence would bet on that.

  “He claimed you were an heiress.”

  She shrugged. “I suppose I was . . . once. The money went pretty quickly after my grandparents died. What my father didn’t spend on whiskey, he gambled away. He must have thought there was an endless supply, but of course there wasn’t. After he and Mother died, I was fortunate to find some gold hidden in my grandparents’ house. That, combined with my teacher’s pay, let us continue to live a normal life.” Shaking her head slowly, Harriet said, “When he came here, I told Thomas the money was gone. I don’t know why he wouldn’t believe me.”

  Lawrence believed her, for everything she said rang true. A once-wealthy family explained the books that had become such an important part of her life and the fact that she had been taught to read at an early age. Harriet’s grandparents had had the time and the money to indulge her. It was also logical that her father, more concerned with whiskey than work, would have squandered his fortune, leaving her no recourse but to find a way to support her siblings.

  “I hope I never see Thomas again,” Harriet said. “I don’t think I could trust myself to be civil.”

  “You won’t have to see him unless you return to Fortune.”

  “I have no reason to do that. Ladreville is my home now.”

  Lawrence liked the sound of that. “Mine too.” Once again, he focused his eyes on Harriet, watching for her reaction as he said, “I’ve decided to stay.”

  Her reaction did not disappoint him, for Harriet’s eyes brightened, and a smile lit her face. “Oh, Lawrence, I was hoping you would. I’m so glad.”

  Warmth filling his heart, Lawrence nodded. It was time to leave. Tomorrow would be soon enough to tell her he loved her. Tomorrow they would both be rested, and there would be no Karl to interfere. Yes, tomorrow would be the day.

  The man had to be stopped. Jake clenched his fists as he tried to slow his breathing. Tonight Old Man Karl even tried to tell the sheriff how to do his job. Jake knew, because he’d had his ear to the floor. It was bad enough when Karl ordered him and his brothers around. Though Jake hadn’t liked that—no, sirree, he hadn’t liked it one bit—at least Karl had been paying them. He probably thought that entitled him to treat them like slaves. It didn’t, but Karl had only grown worse. Now he thought he owned everyone.

  Look at how he treated Harriet. He wanted her to do everything his way, like giving up the school to that woman named Olga. Karl was trying to get Harriet to bend to his will, and she didn’t seem to realize it. Though he would have thought she’d learned her lesson with Thomas, that lying sack of scum, it appeared that his normally smart sister was as dumb as dirt where Karl was concerned. If Jake didn’t do something, she might even marry the man. Jake shuddered at the thought. That would be a mistake, the biggest mistake of Harriet’s life. The biggest mistake in all their lives. As sure as roosters crowed, Jake knew it wouldn’t be only Harriet who’d suffer. They all would.

  The man was an ogre. Jake wouldn’t be surprised if that was the reason Léon Rousseau stopped working for him. Jake had heard that Léon liked farming and wanted his own spread and that he’d once tried to learn from Karl. That had lasted only a couple months. No one else seemed to know why Léon wasn’t spending any more time on the Friedrich farm, but Jake knew. Léon Rousseau wasn’t dumb. He had figured out the real Karl and hightailed it out of there. The problem was, hightailing wasn’t going to accomplish anything for Jake, not with Karl sniffing around Harriet the way he was. Jake clenched his fists again. Someone had to stop that man, and it looked like it was up to him.

  He grinned. Old Karl sure had been riled when he’d cut those buggy seats. It had taken months before he’d started sweet-talking Harriet again. Maybe something worse would keep him away forever.

  Harriet flung her arms out to the side and twirled around. Had there ever been such a wonderful night? Thomas was in jail; Lawrence had returned; and—best of all—he planned to stay. The bubble of happiness that had formed inside her escaped as a giggle. Sinking onto her bed, Harriet laughed. She couldn’t recall the last time she’d giggled. Mary giggled. Sam and Daniel did, although they’d deny it. But Harriet had had little cause for laughter. Until tonight.

  The house had come alive the moment Lawrence entered. What had been an ordinary evening listening to Karl speak of crops had become extraordinary, all because Lawrence was there. Though Karl had made no secret of his displeasure, Harriet could only praise Lawrence’s decision not to bring Thomas back to Ladreville. The fewer people who knew that the fire had been set out of deliberate malice toward her, the better, for there was no telling how the townspeople might react. But this way, no one would know. Her family could continue to build a life here, a life free from scandal, free from pity. Thanks to Lawrence.

  That was good, but what made the evening extra special was the way Lawrence had looked at her when they’d said good night. His eyes had sparkled with warmth, his lips had curved in the sweetest of smiles, and for an instant, she had thought he might kiss her again. If only he had, the evening would have been perfect.

  Harriet giggled again, feeling like a schoolgirl infatuated with the most handsome boy in the class. It was silly, of course, to entertain dreams of a future with Lawrence. Even though he seemed to care for her and her family, it was a long way from caring to accepting responsibility for raising five children. Still, Harriet could not forget how wonderful it had felt to be held in his arms, to have his lips on hers. Surely it wasn’t wrong to want another kiss. Just one more.

  “What’s wrong?” Though the evening was cool when Lawrence arrived at the Lazy B, Zach was sitting on the porch, a lantern by his side, apparently waiting for him.

  “What made you think something was wrong?”

  Lawrence’s antennae quivered. There was more here than met the eye. Zach had his hat tipped over his face. That in itself was odd, since the sun had long since set. And then there was his voice. The rancher sounded as if he were struggling to contain mirth. Something was going on, but Lawrence had no idea what it was.

  “What made me think something was wrong? How about your note?” Lawrence was tired. That was bad enough, but finding Karl at the Kirk household had made him cranky, and so he laced his words with more sarcasm than he might have ordinarily. “You said you needed to see me and that it was important. What else was I supposed to think?”

  Zach rose, pushing his hat back so he could look directly at Lawrence. “You spent too many years as a Ranger, my friend. Not all news is bad.”

  “Then there hasn’t been more rustling?”

  “Nope.”

  “And no one poisoned the well?”

  “Not only that, but no more buildings have burned, and no one stole the silver.” Zach appeared to be enjoying himself.

  “So, why did you want to see me?”

  The dark-haired man grinned as he opened the door and strode inside, leaving Lawrence to follow him. When they were both inside, he turned and grinned again. “I’m going to be a father.”

  “You are?” Lawrence heard the incredulity in his voice. As he had ridden to the ranch, he had imagined half a dozen reasons why Zach might have summoned him. Fatherhood was not one of them.

  “That’s what Priscilla tells me, and she ought to know.”

  Zach a father. That was an even better announcement than Sterling’s love for Ruth. “Papa Zach. It’s got a nice ring to it.” Lawrence clapped his friend on the back before wrinkling his nose in feigned concern. “I sure hope
your children look like Priscilla. It would be a crying shame to see them saddled with your ugly mug.”

  “And I thought you were my friend.” Undaunted by the teasing, Zach headed toward the kitchen. “Let’s have a drink to celebrate. Take a seat.” Zach gestured toward the table. “If you thought you were getting whiskey, I’m afraid I’m going to disappoint you. You have your choice of coffee or buttermilk.”

  Harriet would approve. Lawrence chuckled in amazement that almost every thought led back to her. Even when he’d fancied himself in love with Priscilla, she hadn’t dominated his thoughts the way Harriet did. “I’m not disappointed. I’ll take the coffee.” Perhaps that would clear his head. When Zach poured them each a cup, Lawrence raised his. “Here’s to your son . . . or daughter.”

  An hour and three cups of coffee later, he rose, suddenly aware that he hadn’t seen Priscilla. It was a measure of how much he’d changed that he could come to the house he had once associated only with Priscilla and not have his first thoughts be of her.

  “Where’s the mother-to-be? I want to congratulate her.”

  “She was called out tonight. Another baby.” Zach’s pride in his wife’s profession was apparent. “The town is growing.”

  “That’s good news. It means they’ll continue to need me.”

  Zach gave him an appraising look. “So, you decided to stay?” When Lawrence nodded, Zach reached for the coffeepot. “That’s cause for more celebration.”

  It was close to midnight before Lawrence left the Lazy B, his fatigue masked by the quantity of coffee he’d consumed. When he reached the main road, he looked both directions. It was a reflex action, the result of his time as a Ranger, when he had learned the importance of being aware of his surroundings. Though Lawrence doubted there was anyone lurking behind a tree, waiting to ambush him on the way back to Ladreville, this was one habit he would not discard.

  To his surprise, he saw a rider approaching rapidly from the south. Lawrence reined in Snip, wondering who was out at this hour of the night. The only houses in that direction were Clay’s Bar C ranch and the Friedrich farm. Given the rider’s speed, it must be Clay, heading into town to see a patient. Lawrence waited. He’d ride with Clay.