Tom took a step closer to Pa and touched his shoulder. “Pa? Why aren’t you saying anything? Tell her what I said is true.”
Pa gave a slow shake of his head and brushed Tom off like he was some kind of pesky fly. “Leave me be, boy. This is between me and your sister.”
Tom crossed his arms over his chest. “No, sir, it is not. I am part of this family even if you seem to keep forgetting that fact. And someday this ranch will belong to me. As your only son and your heir, I got the right to know what she’s talking about.”
Pa laughed—a cold, dead sound. “Somehow I don’t think you’re gonna like what she has to say.”
Steven backed his horse a step but didn’t turn and leave. Tom wanted to toss the man off the property, but whatever was wrong with Leah would probably come out where everyone would know, anyway.
The door creaked again. Millie stood in the opening, smiling and beckoning, with Buddy looking over her shoulder. “Supper’s about ready. Why don’t you two put your horses in the barn and get washed up?”
Tom’s stomach chose that moment to grumble, but he ignored it. Something was going on here that he didn’t understand. He intended to get to the bottom of it, and the sooner the better.
Leah shook her head. “Not yet, Millie. I’ve got something to say, and you might as well stick around and listen. This isn’t how I wanted it to happen”—she sucked in a sharp breath—“but things don’t always happen the way we wish.”
Deep frown lines formed around Millie’s lips. “What you talkin’ about, girl? How you wanted what to happen? What did I miss?”
Leah looked at Tom. “This will probably hurt you, Tom, and I’m sorry. I found a letter a few days ago that Ma left for me. She said the ranch belonged to my pa—Aaron, her first husband—and she put the deed in my name. I own the ranch, not you or Pa.”
Tom felt shaky and sick. “You found Ma’s letters? What were you doing going through my things?”
Leah stared at her brother, all thought of what she’d been about to say blowing away like a tumbleweed in a stiff wind. “Letters? Your things? What are you talking about?” She clenched the reins tightly, quieting her restless mount, her short-clipped nails digging into her palms. “You said ‘Ma’s letters’ … ‘in my things.’ You have letters Ma wrote? Who did she write them to?”
Panic showed clear in Tom’s eyes; then a veil dropped over them. “Nothing. Letters Ma wrote to me, that’s all.”
Her father’s head snapped up, and he grabbed Tom’s arm with his good hand, yanking her brother toward him. “I always could tell when you were lyin’, boy. There’d be no reason for your ma to write letters to you with you livin’ with her. Tell the truth now. Why’d you go all white and sickly when Leah asked you that question? What are you hidin’?”
Leah looked from one to the other as dread formed in the pit of her stomach. “Tom?” She urged her horse forward a few steps until he was almost to the edge of the porch. “Do you have letters Ma wrote to me?”
He didn’t speak, and her father shook him like an angry child with a rag doll. “Tell her the truth! She’s been lied to for enough years by both of us. It’s time to come clean, boy.”
Tom’s head whipped back and forth as though he had no strength or will to hold it steady. Finally, Charlie dropped his hand and stepped back, but he kept his hands balled. Tom stood there, rocking and shivering, but no sound came from his lips.
Leah dismounted and looped the reins over the hitching rail, then walked toward her brother. “Tom?” She touched him on the shoulder. “Please tell me what you meant about Ma’s letters.”
The sadness in his eyes as he turned toward her was so unexpected it shook Leah hard. She’d anticipated anger from Tom after Pa’s harsh treatment and words, not despair that cried for understanding. While she tensed at what might be coming, she wished she could wrap her arms around her little brother and hold him tight as she had when he was a baby.
But this wasn’t the time to coddle him. Tom needed to ’fess up to whatever he’d done wrong, and she wouldn’t do him any favors by trying to protect him.
He gave his head a half shake as though attempting to wake himself from a bad dream. “I’m sorry, Leah. Truly I am.”
“For what, Tom? Tell me.” She reached out to touch him again, but the pain in his eyes stopped her. “Please?”
He nodded. “I stole the letters Ma wrote you. I was so jealous. I knew she’d promised Pa not to contact you for two years after she left. When I arrived in Portland, she asked me to mail the first letter to you. I wanted her all to myself. You were always her favorite. If you came, I’d be pushed aside again.”
Leah heard Steven’s harsh intake of breath and her father’s low rumble of anger, but she paid them no heed. “How long did this go on, Tom? How many letters?”
He spread his hands in a wide arc. “I’m not sure. I never counted. I was only going to keep the first three or four, to give her time to want me there, as much as she wanted you. Then she started worrying and wondering why you didn’t answer, and she sent another one asking if you’d gotten her letters.”
Leah nodded, understanding dawning. “You knew if I got that one, I’d write and tell her I hadn’t gotten any of them. So you had to keep taking them.”
Tom lowered his head until his chin almost touched his chest. “Yeah.”
“But you didn’t throw them away? You said you thought I was rummaging in your room. Did you keep some of them?” Leah’s emotions galloped wildly back and forth between anger, pity, and hope.
Was it possible her mother hadn’t walked off and completely forgotten her after writing the letter she’d found in the box? All this time she’d grieved her mother’s death, only to find out she had deserted her, and now to discover Ma might have cared after all ... it was almost more than Leah could grasp.
“I kept them all.” Tom lifted his head, his voice hoarse and hollow. “Wait here. I’ll get them for you.” He turned and walked away like a man whose will had been broken.
A lifetime of thoughts and memories flew through Leah’s mind. A deep, profound silence hovered as they all waited for Tom’s return. Leah looked first at her pa, then at Millie and Buddy, standing with arms entwined near the still-open front door, and finally at Steven, compassion showing clearly on his face. Her heart twisted as she remembered his words. He was leaving her too.
Footfalls on the hard ground behind Leah alerted her, and she pivoted.
Tom’s normal swagger was gone, and he all but shuffled up to her, clutching a crudely handcrafted box. He stopped in front of her and thrust it forward as though anxious to run, as she knew he must be. “Take it. They’re all there.”
He waited until she had a firm grip on the box, then sidled backward toward the bunkhouse. “I’ll be going now. The ranch is yours. I’m sure you and Pa hate me for what I’ve done.”
Leah stared, not comprehending. “I don’t hate you, Tom. I’m disappointed and even angry, but I could never hate you. Give Pa some time to get past all of this, and me, too.”
He shook his head. “I’m not so sure, Leah. I think I need time by myself.” He pivoted and walked toward the bunkhouse without looking back.
Pa lunged forward as though finally waking from a stupor. “You come back here, boy. We’re not finished!”
Leah leaped toward him and grasped his arm. “Leave him be, Pa. It’s not going to help to yell at him right now. He said he was sorry, and I believe he meant it. That’s enough for now. There’s time for more talk later.” She cradled the box against her chest. “I’m going to my room, but promise me you won’t say anything more to Tom tonight, all right?”
He stared at her for several long seconds, then nodded. “I suppose I can leave him be until tomorrow. Then he and I are goin’ to have us a long talk.” He narrowed his eyes. “Now, what was it you started to say about that deed, girl? Som
ethin’ about your ma leavin’ the ranch to you, is that what I heard?”
She bit her lip, hating to add any more tension to the situation. But she didn’t want to dance around the truth. There had been far too much of that over the years. “Yes. Ma left me a letter in the box you made for me when I was a girl. She said the ranch is mine—that my pa wanted me to have it—but that she’d told you she might put it in your name if you cared for me. I’m not sure how I feel about it yet, but I was planning on talking to you about it. Just not like this. I’m sorry.”
Steven stepped forward and cleared his throat. “I’ll be excusing myself now and go check on Tom.” He smiled at Millie. “I’d love to have some of your delicious supper later, if you don’t mind holding it for me.” He waited for her assent, then headed for the bunkhouse.
Millie stared at Steven, then grabbed Buddy’s arm and dragged him inside. Leah could hear her hissing unintelligible words as they closed the door behind them.
Leah faced her father—or, at least, the man she’d called Pa for as long as she could remember. They stood alone near the hitching rail, and the silence felt like a smothering blanket, making it hard to breathe. “Pa? I need answers. Not tomorrow. Now.”
He shook his head like an old dog struggling to wake from a deep sleep, his eyes clouded and sad. “I got no idea what to say to you, girl. You got the say-so around here from now on, according to the paper your ma left. Guess that’s all you need to know, ain’t it?”
Anguish rose inside Leah, and she wanted to wail. “No, it’s not all, Pa. There’s a whole lot more I want to know, and you are the only one who can give me the answers. You. Not Tom, or Millie, or Buddy, or Steven.”
He kicked a loose rock, and it bounced a few feet and struck the bottom step of the porch. “I don’t got any answers that would make you happy, Leah. Nary a one.”
She gripped his arm tightly above the elbow. “I didn’t ask you to make me happy. I asked you to give me answers.”
Pa raised his eyes and met hers, and Leah felt a dart of pain as she read the deep struggle in his own. A war raged in her father’s heart, almost too terrible to comprehend.
She released her hold and took a step back. “Is it all true, what Ma said in her letter? She left because she hated it here, and you convinced her not to tell me, and to pretend to be dead, so I wouldn’t leave too? But you were supposed to tell me the truth. You promised her you’d tell me after a couple of years went by and allow me to make my own decision. You never told me at all, Pa. You lied.”
He jerked as though a whip had struck him across the face. His lips formed words but nothing escaped.
Leah held out her hands, desperate to understand. “Why, Pa?”
“I wish I could tell you somethin’ that would ease your mind, but I can’t. There ain’t nothin’ that can take back what I did or undo the pain I caused. I got no excuse, girl. None at all.”
“I’m not asking for excuses. I want reasons!” She flung the words at him as though they were daggers. She only wished they could pierce the thick hide of resistance that shrouded the man standing bent and stoop-shouldered before her.
“I couldn’t lose you, Leah girl. You were all I had left. I couldn’t stand the thought I might be all alone,” he whispered. “I guess that’s all there was to it. I’d lost your ma. She threw me away like I was a no-account critter, and then Tom ran off too.”
He stiffened. “But now the ranch is yours to do with as you want. That’s the way it ought to be, I guess. It’s fair, after what I done. I hope someday you can find it in your heart to forgive me, but I won’t fault you if you can’t.”
He plucked his hat from his head, wiped his perspiring forehead, and jammed the hat back down over his balding crown. “I got chores to do, and there ain’t nothin’ more to say.” He stalked across the clearing to the barn without a backward glance.
Steven had no idea what he planned to do, but he couldn’t stand around any longer listening to a conversation that had nothing to do with him. He pushed open the bunkhouse door and halted. “What are you doing?”
Tom swung around and glared. “What does it look like?” He gestured toward the bed, which was littered with clothes. “Packing. Didn’t you hear me say I want some time by myself?” He turned back and stuffed a shirt into his bag.
“I didn’t realize that meant you’d be leaving. Are you headed to town?” Steven rested his shoulder against the door frame.
Tom kept his back turned. “What’s it to you?”
Steven didn’t miss the husky note in Tom’s voice. He straightened and stepped closer. “I hate to see you leave the ranch with things unresolved between you and your father. It’s going to hurt Leah, you know.”
Tom’s movements stilled. “It always comes back to Leah, doesn’t it?” The words were soft but clear. He shifted into action again, snatching at a pair of trousers and cramming them into his bag without folding them.
Steven hesitated, not sure he had any business speaking his mind. This wasn’t his family, or his problem, but somehow he couldn’t let it go. “She’s your sister, Tom. Shouldn’t you care about her as well?”
Tom laughed, but it came out strangled and choked. “I spent the past six years listening to my mother care about Leah. Isn’t that enough?” He flipped the top closed on the bag and secured the buckles, then half pivoted. “Why does everything have to be about Pa or my sister? Don’t I matter?”
Steven’s heart hurt for the young man, but Tom didn’t need pity, he needed direction. “Of course you do, but I think you’re looking at things a little off-kilter.”
“Yes? And how’s that, exactly?” Tom sneered, but his eyes still reflected his pain.
“Your sister loves you. And I’m guessing Charlie does too, but he has a harder time showing it.”
“Ha! Then you don’t know my pa very well. The only thing he loves is this ranch and the saloon. Why do you think my mother left?”
Steven tipped his head to one side. “From what I’ve heard, she left because she never really loved him, even though he loved her. As for loving the ranch and the saloon more than you, I doubt it. I’ve noticed he’s not been drinking much, if at all, since his accident.”
Tom emitted a hollow laugh and sat on the edge of the bed. “So he hasn’t felt up to going to town. That doesn’t prove anything.”
“He’s been to town at least once that I know of, and probably more. And do you think someone who loves to drink does it all in a saloon?” Steven wagged his head. “That’s not been my experience with the people I’ve known who love their liquor. They keep it stashed close. If Charlie wanted to drink, he’d be doing it straightaway here on the ranch. His broken arm wouldn’t stop him.”
Tom didn’t meet Steven’s eyes. “That’s nothing to me, either way. It doesn’t prove he cares about me.”
“I think it does.” Steven sat on the bunk across from Tom. “I think your father is struggling with remorse over his actions. He might be trying to change his ways—maybe in the hope of earning your respect.”
This time Tom threw back his head and laughed in earnest. He wiped his eyes and looked at Steven. “That’s the craziest thing I’ve ever heard. Pa doesn’t care about earning anyone’s respect. He has so much pride he figures everyone sees him the same way he sees himself.”
“It’s too bad you feel that way. You’re missing out by not spending time with your pa. You think you know all about him, but I’m guessing there are things you don’t understand. And then there’s Leah. She’s been grieving your disappearance for years and is pretty happy you came home. Why take your anger at your parents out on her?”
“You don’t understand anything, mister, and it’s not really your business.” Tom got up, grabbed his bag, and slung it over his shoulder. “I’m headed to town, and I’d appreciate it if you keep that information to yourself. At least for tonight. I don�
�t want Leah or anyone following me and trying to talk me into returning. I want to be left alone. Think you can do that?” He towered over Steven, who sat on the bed without moving. Tom’s eyes smoldered with frustration.
Steven stood and forced himself to relax. He’d love to throttle some sense into this young man, but he doubted much that he said or did would make an impact. “I can.”
“Good.” Tom strode through the open doorway without looking back.
Steven moved to the porch, wondering what it would take for Tom to find his way out of the darkness that surrounded him. He lifted his eyes toward heaven and sent up a silent prayer on the young man’s behalf. At this point in Tom’s life, God was probably the only One who could reach him, and even God might have to put some thought into how He’d bring that to pass.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
May 26, 1881
Early the next morning Tom swung his bag up to the top of the stage heading out of Baker City, then opened the door and plunked onto the hard seat. He was more than happy to put the town behind him. The stage couldn’t leave too soon for him.
As the driver cracked his whip and the team surged forward, Tom put his elbow on the window opening and looked outside. Would Pa or Leah show up and try to stop him? Or maybe Buddy or that banker Steven Harding would ride in at the last minute, in hopes of talking him out of his decision.
The streets were congested with early morning shoppers, miners heading to their work, and wagons carting cargo to and from the mines, but Tom didn’t see a single face he recognized as the stage rolled through town. Disappointment hit him hard, but he pushed it aside. It wasn’t as if he’d told anyone he planned to take the stage to La Grande. Harding assumed he would spend a night or two in town, and it was possible Leah and Pa didn’t know he’d left the ranch, since he’d made the banker promise not to tell last night.
Part of him had hoped the man would break his word, rush to the house, and spill the beans. He sagged against the seat and stared at the opposite wall, thankful he was the only passenger. Apparently most travelers were coming to Baker City rather than leaving.
Dreaming on Daisies: A Novel (Love Blossoms in Oregon Series Book 3) Page 24
